THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 
OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 
PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


JK1LM^00IJL£C4IUN 


THE 


EEBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BEIDE 


A  TRUE  PICTURE  OP 


SCENES  IN  THE  LATE  CIYIL  ¥AE. 


By  M.   a.   AVERY. 


SPRINGFIELD,   MASS.: 
W.   J.    HOLLAND   AND   COMPANY. 

1873. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  187?, 

By  W.  J.  HOLLAND, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


[all  rights  kesekved.] 


Boston  : 
Rand,  Avery,  &  Co.,  Stereotypers  and  Printers. 


COITTEKTS. 


I.  —  The  Wedding  at  Hunter  Hills 5 

II.  —  Scheming.  —  Broken  Bonds 24 

III.  —  Family  Jars.  —  The  Elopement i4 

lY.  — The  Rebel  General.  — The  Proposal 62 

V.  —  Bull  Run.  —  The  Overseer 81 

VI.  — The  Guerillas.  — Death  of  Major  Hunter 99 

YII. —  Going  to  Camp.  —  The  Brother's  Danger 122 

"VIII.  —  The  Brother's  Escape.  —  Old  Acquaintances    .        ,       .        .141 

IX.  —  Marriage  of  the  Rebel  General.  —  Tlie  Noble  Work        .        .  104 

X.  — Philip  Atherton.  —  The  General's  Return         .        .       ,        .182 

XI.  —  The  Abduction.  —  Catharine's  Illness 19G 

XII.  — An  Old  A  Imirer.  — Riding  in  State 213 

XIII. — Tlie  Overturn.  — Early  Love  too  Late 230 

XIV. —  Catharine  in  Libby  Prison.  —  Released 254 

XV. —  Xo  Home.  —  Again  in  Bonds 274 

XVI.  — Escaping.  — The  Field  of  Battle 294 

XVir.  —  Theodore.  —  The  Memorable  Seven  Days 315 

XVIIL  — The  Rebel  General.  — Home  at  Last 326 

XIX.  — The  Child's  Rescue.  — The  General's  Danger  .        .        .        .344 

XX.  — The  Rivals.  — Death  of  Philip  Atherton 369 

XXI.  —  Catharine's  Mission.  — The  Rebel  General's  Death         .        ..385 
XXIL  —  Going  Home.  —  The  First  Love  at  Last    ....        .398 

3 


602700 


THE 

Rebel  General's  Loyal  Bride. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   WEDDING  AT   HUNTER  HILLS. 

'POX  tlie  brow  of  one  of  the  lower  range  of 
the  Hunter  Hills,  in  the  Old  Dominion,  once 
stood  a  handsome  stone  mansion,  that  was 
noted  for  its  large  size  and  admirable  pro- 
portions, and  was  the  pride  and  glory  of  the  surround- 
ing country. 

This  grand  old  mansion,  with  its  quaint  turrets, 
gables,  and  cornices,  was  built  in  the  old  Colonial  days, 
and  baronial  style,  by  a  younger  son  of  a  prominent 
Ensclish  nobleman,  who  came  over  to  America  at  that 
time  to  seek  that  fame  and  fortune  the  laws  of  primo- 
geniture denied  him  at  home. 

From  its  commanding  position,  this  mansion  over- 
looked a  large  extent  of  territory,  and  probably  for 
that  reason  had  been  occupied  as  a  fort  in  Hevolu- 
tionary  times,  and  the  still  earlier  wars  with  the  In- 
dians. 

The  house  had  never  passed  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
descendants  of  the  family  who  reared  it.     And  Major 

6 


6     THE  REBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

Hunter,  its  representative  and  possessor  in  the  yeai 
1860,  was  quite  as  proud  of  "  Hunter  House  "as  he 
would  have  been  of  "Windsor  Castle  or  the  palace  at 
Versailles,  bad  they  belonged  to  him.  It  had  spacious 
halls,  parlors,  and  drawing-rooms,  abundance  of  long 
galleries,  kitchens,  closets,  pantries,  and  sleeping-rooms, 
with  a  great,  roomy  library.  This  was  filled  with  choice 
books,  costly  pictures,  beautiful  statuary,  and  rich  and 
rare  carvings  in  black  walnut  and  English  oak,  with 
antique  furniture  of  the  grandest  description. 

The  treasured  relics  of  past  generations  were  in  fact 
gathered  at  Hunter  House ;  nor  would  their  owner  sub- 
mit to  the  desire  of  his  comparatively  young  and  fash- 
ionable wife  to  have  them  replaced  by  modern  improve- 
ments and  inventions. 

The  house  had  fine  out-buildings,  handsome  gardens 
and  shrubberies,  spacious  orchards,  and  a  long  line  of 
whitewashed  slave-cabins  in  the  rear ;  while  thousands 
of  acres  of  rich  plantation  and  grazing  lands,  belonging 
to  the  same  princely  estate,  surrounded  it  in  every  direc- 
tion. A  road  crossed  the  grounds  from  east  to  west ; 
though  the  house  itself  was  more  than  a  mile  from  either 
of  the  great  northern  and  southern  thoroughfares  that 
crossed  the  country. 

But,  though  Hunter  House  was  somewhat  isolated, 
the  scenery  around  it  was  very  beautiful,  with  its  back- 
ground of  rocks  and  hills  and  magnificent  forests,  and 
its  foreground  of  cultivated  fields  and  (in  their  season) 
abundant  harvests. 

And  so  evidently  thought  the  gay  cavalcade  of  visit- 
ors who  rode  up  towards  the  old  mansion  one  fine  after- 
noon during  the  Christmas  holidays  of  1860  ;  talking  of 
the  ancient  glories  of  the  race  who  occupied  it,  and  gaz- 


THE  TVTIDDING  AT   HUNTER   HILLS.  7 

ing  upon  the  magnificent  scenery.  It  was  a  gala-day 
at  Hunter  House,  — one  long  to  be  remembered  in  the 
annals  of  the  family;  for  sweet  Lucy  Hunter,  the 
major's  eldest,  and  indeed  only  daugliter  by  a  former 
marriage,  was  that  day  to  become  a  bride. 

Preparations  commensurate  with  the  wealth  and  cul- 
tivated taste  of  the  family  had  been  made  in  every  de- 
partment of  the  household  for  the  pleasure  and  enter- 
tainment of  a  large  number  of  guests,  some  of  whom 
were  to  remain  several  days.  The  rooms  were  adorned 
with  flowers  and  evergreens,  the  tables  with  the  old 
family  plate  and  china,  as  well  as  with  every  delicacy 
that  could  please  the  eye  or  gratify  the  taste.  And  the 
long  lines  of  servants  standing  at  every  angle,  ready  to 
do  the  bidding  of  the  guests,  were  evidently  partaking 
of  the  general  joy  of  the  houseliold.  Major  Hunter,  a 
tall,  portly,  white-haired  old  gentleman  of  seventy, 
with  keen  gray  eyes,  a  florid  complexion,  and  decided 
Roman  features,  appeared  to  excellent  advantage  as  a 
host  that  day ;  while  his  lady,  a  handsome,  black-eyed 
woman  of  forty,  was  the  very  perfection  of  a  hostess. 
Her  friends,  the  Athertons,  were  all  there ;  and,  con- 
spicuous among  them,  her  brother.  Col.  Atherton,  who 
had  just  returned  from  a  two-years'  residence  in  Europe. 
He,  with  his  son  and  daughter,  and  Judge  Tremont 
and  his  two  daughters,  the  uncle  and  cousins  of  the 
bride,  had  fortunately  been  recalled  from  their  Euro- 
pean tour  just  in  time  to  be  present  at  the  marriage. 
And  most  of  the  distinguished  families  in  the  county 
were  there,  as  well  as  a  good  many  from  Richmond, 
and  still  more  distant  localities  out  of  the  State. 

The  hour  fixed  upon  for  the  ceremony  arrived  at  last : 
the   chandeliers   were   lighted,    and    the     guests   were 


8     THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

arranged  to  their  satisfaction  in  the  great  drawing- 
room. 

Mr.  Harlowe,  the  aged  clergyman,  took  his  place, 
and  all  was  eager  expectation ;  when  the  band  in  the 
anteroom  struck  up  a  grand  march,  the  drawing- 
room  doors  were  opened  with  an  extra  flourish  by 
Uncle  Nick,  a  favorite  slave,  and  the  bridal  party  en- 
tered the  room.  They  immediately  took  their  places ; 
and  the  solemn  ceremony  was  performed  that  made 
James  Hamilton  and  Lucy  Hunter  husband  and  wife. 

They  were  not  by  any  means  a  youthful  pair:  but, 
though  more  than  thirt}'-,  the  bride  looked  good  and  lov- 
able in  her  white  satin,  orange-blossoms,  and  costly 
bridal  veil ;  and  the  bridegroom,  who  evidently  thought 
so,  was  one  of  the  finest-looking  men  in  the  room. 

The  bridesmaids,  too,  in  their  ethereal  white  robes, 
with  coronets  of  white  roses,  came  in  for  their  share  of 
admiration. 

But  there  was  none  among  them  all  who  excited 
greater  attention  than  the  lady  who  leaned  upon  the 
arm  of  Lloyd  Hunter,  the  brother  of  the  bride,  who 
seemed  to  be  a  stranger  to  most  of  the  company. 

"  What  a  splendid  girl!" 

"Who  is  she?'' 

*'  Which  do  you  mean  ?  '' 

"Why,  the  first  bridesmaid  of  course,"  was  echoed 
presently  from  lip  to  lip  in  a  distant  corner. 

"  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Mrs.  Clyde,  a  proud,  aristo- 
oratic-looking  lady,  with  a  scornfully-curling  lip :  "  it 
is  the  governess !  Only  Mrs.  Hunter's  Yankee  gov- 
erness.'^ 

"Why,  Philip,  as  sure  as  the  world,  it  is  Catharine!" 
exclaimed  Grace,  the  eldest  of  Judge  Tremont's  daugh- 


THE  WEDDING  AT  HUNTER   HELLS.  9 

ters,  to  Pliilipj  lier  present  cavalier,  and  the  son  of  Col. 
Atherton. 

"I  believe  you  are  right,"  he  returned.  "But  where 
did  she  come  from  ?  I  do  wonder  how  she  comes  to  be  a 
favored  guest  in  Aunt  Jane's  drawing-room  ! " 

"  And  I  wonder  your  aunt  will  permit  such  an  exhi- 
bition of  democracy,  or  that  Lloyd  Hunter  will  con- 
sent to  exhibit  himself  in  such  a  way  at  such  a  time  ! " 
echoed  Mrs.  Clyde.  "  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Atherton,  that 
neither  my  daughters  nor  /  have  taken  much  pains  to 
cultivate  that  girl's  acquaintance." 

''Of  course  not,"  said  Philip  dryly.  "Yet  I  assure 
you,  Mrs.  Clyde,  that  we  all  used  to  do  it  when  we 
were  at  school  up  in  New  England,  —  Lloyd  among  the 
number.  He  and  Grace  and  Nell  and  I  boarded  two 
whole  j^ears  in  her  mother's  family." 

"  That,  then,  explains  it,  —  an  old  flame  of  his,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"Yes:  but  one  we  thought  burnt  out  long  ago," 
echoed  Nell,  the  sister  of  Philip  Atherton. 

"  Don't  be  uns^enerous,  Nell.  Catharine  Hale  was  a 
noble  girl ;  and  I,  for  one,  shall  be  delighted  to  see  her,'^ 
said  Grace  Tremont. 

"'  Ay !  but  wasn't  her  brother  Theodore  nobler,  and 
wouldn't  you  be  glad  to  see  him  ?  "  Nell  returned  sar- 
castically. 

"  I  certainly  should  be  glad  to  see  the  whole  family," 
said  Grace  with  a  conscious  flush.  "  But  come,  they 
are  congratulating  :  let's  go  and  see  Kate  too." 

"  You  can  go,  if  you  like,"  said  Nell.  "  I  am  in  no 
hurry  to  look  up  the  Yankee  governess,  or  an}^  of  her 
plebeian  relations." 

"  Why,  Nell !     Have  you  forgotten,  that,  but  for  The- 


10    THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

odore,  Harry,  and  Jim  Hooker,  we  should  once  all  have 
been  drowned  ?  that,  but  for  Theodore,  I  should  have 
gone  over  the  cliff,  and  been  dashed  upon  the  rocks 
below  ?  Whatever  misconstructions  came  afterwards,  I, 
for  one,  can  never  forget  what  I  owe  to  Mrs.  Hale's 
famil3^  You  can  scorn  her  if  you  like  ;  but  /  shall  do 
no  such  thing  !  "  and  she  tossed  her  bright  golden  curls 
defiantly  at  both. 

Philip  laughed,  yet  not  very  joyously ;  for  he  was 
now  a  suitor  for  the  hand  of  Grace  Tremont,  with  the 
full  knowledge  that  she  had  once,  when  they  were  all  at 
a  celebrated  Northern  classical  school  togeth.er,  six  years 
ago,  cared  much  more  for  Theodore  Hale  than  himself; 
and  he  also  knew  how  much  he  had  then  thought  of 
Catharine,  the  fair  Yankee  governess.  As  he  had  said, 
for  two  j^ears  they  had  lived  under  the  same  roof,  and 
eaten  at  the  same  table.  They  had  studied  in  the  same 
classes  at  school,  been  rivals  for  its  honors,  and  not 
always  generous  ones.  They  had  played  the  same 
games,  sung  the  same  glorious  harmonies,  and  rode 
and  walked  and  rambled  over  the  New-England  hills 
and  valleys  together,  in  search  of  nuts  and  berries  and 
fish  and  game. 

And  this  intimate  acquaintance,  overcoming  strong 
prejudice,  culminated  in  strong  attachments,  but  ended, 
through  some  mysterious  means,  in  doubt,  misconstruc- 
tion, and  disappointment.  They  were  mere  school  boys 
and  girls  together  then,  full  of  youth's  bright  hopes 
and  dreams,  crude  fancies  and  unformed  plans,  —  living 
in  the  present,  and  comparatively  careless  of  the  future. 
Now  they  were  men  and  women,  meeting  for  the  first 
time  upon  a  new  arena  ;  where,  though  they  knew  it  not, 
they   were    about   to    become    actors   in   some    of    the 


THE  WEDDING  AT  HUNTER  HILLS.  11 

grandest  yet  most  terrible  scenes  of  a  nation's  his- 
tory. 

The  meeting  between  Grace  and  Catharine  was  in- 
deed a  joyful  one,  for  they  had  loved  each  other  fondly 
and  truly  ;  and  later  in  the  evening,  when  the  elegant 
supper  was  over,  they  had  a  long  and  to  them  deeply- 
interesting  conversation.  It  was  interrupted  by  Lloyd 
Hunter  at  last,  who  said,  as  he  and  Philip  came  up  to 
where  they  w'ere  standing, — 

"  Ah,  Catharine  !  I  have  been  looking  for  you  every- 
where. They  are  getting  ready  for  dancing ;  and  I 
believe  you  promised  me  the  first  set." 

"Yes,"  she  replied;  ''and  I  am  ready,  if  Grace  w^ill 
excuse  me."     She  did  of  course. 

Lloyd  took  her  hand,  and  marched  away  with  a  step 
as  light  as  air,  his  hopes  were  so  buoyant,  and  with  a 
glance  at  his  fair  companion  that  spoke  volumes  of  love 
and  trust  and  admiration. 

"  Do  you  see  that,  Philip  ?  "  said  Grace  familiarly, 
after  watching  them  a  moment. 

"  Of  course  I  do.  And  Kate  has  improved  wonder- 
fully;  hasn't  she?  She  is  really  beautiful ;  and  Lloyd 
evidently  thinks  so.  You  know  he  always  had  a  fancy 
that  way.  Can  it  be,  that,  in  spite  of  his  pride,  he  is 
really  going  to  marry  her?  " 

'•  I  hope  so,  for  I  always  liked  her  ;  and  I  don't  know 
her  superior  anywhere.     But  won't  Nell  fume  ?  " 

"Why?" 

"  Do  you  need  to  be  told,  you  stupid  fellow,  that  Kell, 
in  spite  of  her  shabby  treatment  of  him  in  Paris,  has 
come  home  determined  to  win  him  back  to  his  alle- 
giance ?  " 

"  I  suspect  she  has  thought  of  it.     But  she  was  a  fool 


12        THE  REBEL  GENERA:^'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

to  break  off  witli  him  in  tlie  first  place.  Lloyd  is  a 
noble  fellow,  and  worth  all  the  Count  Larois  in  the 
universe." 

"So  I  think.  But  Nell  deserves  to  lose  him  for 
playing  such  a  double  game." 

"  She  always  plays  a  double  game ;  didn't  you  know 
it  ?  But  what  matters  that,  if  it  is  only  the  winning 
one  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know :  I  like  an  open,  honest  deal  far 
better." 

"Then,  why  will  you  not  give  me  one,  dear  Grace, 
and  make  me  supremely  happy  by  setting  an  early  day 
for  our  marriage  ?  " 

"  Because  I  want  my  freedom  a  little  longer,"  said 
Grace,  laughing  and  blushing. 

"But  won't  you  be  just  as  free  as  my  wife  ?  There'll 
be  no  crusty  old  i^eople  to  look  after  you  tlienP 

''  But  there  would  be  a  young  one,  who  might  be  more 
tyrannical." 

"  You  know  me  too  well  to  believe  that,  Grace.  You 
have  kept  me  waiting  for  years,  but  do  have  some  pity 
upon  my  lonely  condition  now,"  said  he  pleadingly. 

"  I  think  you,  as  well  as  myself,  have  been  quite  satis- 
fied with  your  freedom  till  now.  And,  if  you  could  have 
suited  yourself  better,  you  know  you  have  always  had  the 
privilege." 

"  Well,  I  will  own  that  our  conditional  engagement 
has  hitherto  suited  me  far  better  than  to  have  felt  my- 
self tied  hand  and  foot.  But  now  that  we  have  seen  a 
little  of  the  world,  and  our  travels  are  over,  we  ought 
to  marry,  and  settle  down  at  home,  contented  and  happy 
for  the  rest  of  our  lives." 

"  Contented,  with    every  thing  and  everybody  in   a 


THE  WEDDING  AT   HUNTER  HH.LS.  13 

turmoil !  Don't  3-011  see  tluit  every  thing  is  getting  into 
a  wliirlpool  here?  and  don't  I  know  that  you  have  come 
home  on  purpose  to  put  your  foot  in  it?  Diurt  talk  to 
me  about  marrying,  Philip,  till  we  can  see  what  it's  all 
coming  to." 

"  Til  en  3'ou  may  have  to  wait  till  doomsdaj^,"  said 
Philip  angrily.  "  These  troublesome  elements  of  which 
you  speak  have  been  boiling  over  for  years  ;  and  there 
is  little  prospect  of  their  resting  very  soon. 

'•  There,  the  music  has  struck  up ;  and  it's  time  for 
us  to  go.     We  will  talk  over  this  subject  another  time." 

Grace  was  half  angry,  and  had  a  great  mind  to  re- 
fuse ;  but,  seeing  Major  Hunter  and  Col.  Atherton  com- 
ing towards  them,  she  took  Philip's  arm,  and  walked 
away  without  more  ado. 

"  You  are  an  elegant  dancer,  Atherton :  why  don't 
you  look  you  up  a  partner,  and  join  them  ?  "  said  the 
major  suggestively  to  his  friend. 

"  I  am  in  no  hurry :  I  may  do  so  by  and  by,"  was 
the  reply. 

"  Come,  then  :  we  will  go  and  look  on  a  while." 

So  they  went  out  into  the  hall,  where  the  sets  were 
forming,  stationed  themselves  in  a  retired  window-seat, 
and  began  their  observations.  The  dancing  commenced 
very  soon ;  and  for  a  time  both  gentlemen  silently  watched 
the  performances. 

"  You  have  seen,  and  taken  part  in,  a  great  deal  of 
thir.  kind  of  amusement  in  Europe,  I  suppose,  colonel," 
said  the  major  at  last. 

"  Yes  :  especially  in  Paris,  where  it  is  cultivated  to 
perfection.      Our  young  people  took  lessons  there,  3'ou 
remember.     You  can  see  now  whether  they  profited  by 
them,"  returned  the  colonel. 
2 


14    THE  EEBEL  GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"  Ah  !  they  do  dance  beautifully,  and  especially  Nell. 
She  glides  over  the  floor  like  a  sylph.  She  always  did 
do  everything  that  she  undertook  ingeniously;  and  she 
is  really  beautiful." 

"  Yes  :  but  she  made  one  awkward  blunder  when  she 
broke  off  her  engagement  with  Lloyd.  I  wanted  to 
express  to  you  ni}'-  deep  regret  for  that  occurrence, 
which,  I  am  quite  sure,  she  is  heartily  ashamed  of  and 
sorry  for.  She  thought  she  was  playing  off  a  harmless 
piece  of  coquetry,  as  silly  girls  too  often  do,  and  did 
not  dream  of  serious  consequences,  —  consequences  that 
might,  I  think,  have  been  prevented,  had  I  known  the 
truth  previous  to  his  departure  from  Paris." 

''  You  cannot  regret  them  more  than  I  did  at  first, 
Atherton ;  nor  could  I  believe  it  until  assured  by  Lloyd 
of  the  truth.  He  blamed  her,  of  course  ;  but  joii  know, 
better  than  I,  whether  the  blame  ought  equally  to  rest 
upon  him." 

"No:  I  do  not  blame  him;  and  yet  I  can  but  wish 
that  he  had  had  a  little  more  patience  with  her  folly." 

"  Well,  after  all,  colonel,  there  seems  to  be  a  kind  of 
fate  or  fore-ordination  about  these  thincrs.  It  seems  in 
vain  for  us  to  tvj  to  have  them  all  our  own  way.  Nor  is 
it  best  perhaps  that  we  should.  As  an  instance  of  this, 
there,  now,  is  Lucy,  who  looks  so  proud  and  happj^  to- 
night, and  at  least  ten  years  3'ounger  than  she  did  six 
months  ago.  Sixteen  years  ago  I  refused  her  hand  "to 
that  noble-looking  man,  —  whom  I  am  now  proud  to 
acknowledge  as  my  son-in-law,  —  for  no  other  reason 
than  that  he  was  unable  to  support  her  in  the  style  to 
which  she  had  been  accustomed.  He  went  off  to  Ken- 
tucky to  seek  his  fortune,  and  wear  away  his  disappoint- 
ment ;  while  she  pined  and  faded  at  home,  like  a  lily 


THE  WEDDING  AT  HUNTEK  HILLS.  15 

witli  a  broken  stem.  Slio  would  marry  no  one  else,  as  I 
wished,  because  of  tlie  old  Hunter  blood  in  lier  veins, 
which,  3'ou  know,  when  pure,  is  constant,  and  true  as 
steel.  Last  summer  we  took  her  to  the  Springs;  and 
there,  to  her  surprise  and  our  own,  we  found  Hamilton, 
now  a  noble  and  successful  man,  on  his  way  to  see  her 
once  more.  The  denoument  you  can  see  for  yourself; 
and  I  shall  bear  it  in  my  mind  as  a  lesson  for  evermore." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  we  do  look  too  much  at  hereditary 
and  mercenary  distinctions  here  in  Virginia.  Our  de- 
scent from  the  old  clievaliers  and  English  nobles  leads 
us  to  that.  And  the  gold  we  need  to  keep  up  our  aris- 
tocratic dignity  leads  some  of  us  to  make  unhappy  mar- 
riages, as  you  well  know." 

"  Yes,  indeed.  But  to  return  to  my  own  family. 
There,  now,  is  Lloyd :  he  don't  look  much  like  a  disap- 
pointed invalid  ;  does  he  ?  Well,  we  all,  I  suppose,  con- 
sidered him  and  Nell  as  good  as  married  when  they 
went  off  to  Europe.  But  they  get  to  Paris,  that  high 
school  for  all  kinds  of  deviltry,  —  get  mad  and  jealous, 
have  a  little  tiff,  and  off  he  flies  to  Germany.  He  gets 
ill,  either  from  disappointment  or  eating  their  abomi- 
nable Dutch  cookery ;  and  home  he  comes,  sick,  hope- 
less, desponding,  and,  I  suspect,  hypochondriacal,  — 
thinkin<:c  he  had  come  home  to  die.  His  letters  had 
miscarried,  so  we  knew  nothing  of  his  coming ;  and, 
when  he  arrived,  we  were  away  at  the  Springs.  But 
we  had  left  the  children  at  home  with  Miss  Hale,  our 
admirable  governess ;  so,  in  our  places,  he  found,  to 
his  surprise  and  her  own,  the  very  girl  he  had  loved 
in  their  earlier  daj^s,  when  they  roamed  over  the  Xew- 
England  hills  together.  They  had  parted  in  doubt 
and  misconstruction,   it  seems ;    and   for   a   time  they 


IG         THE  REBEL  GE^TEUAL's   LOYAL  BRIDE. 

avoided  eacli  other :  but  the  old  magnetic  attraction 
brought  them  togetlier  at  last ;  and  tlic  old  love  has  tri- 
umphed." 

"  Indeed !  "  and  Col.  Atherton's  countenance  betrayed 
his  surprise  and  disappointment.  He  knew  now  that 
his  own  labor  was  lost  in  tr3'ing  to  pave  the  way  to 
Lloyd's  reconciliation  with  Nell. 

^'  Yes,"  continued  the  major ;  "  and,  strangely  enough, 
Jane  and  I  —  blind  instruments  in  the  hands  of  a 
higher  power  perhaps  —  had  brought  it  all  about  our- 
selves. Our  governess  left  us  about  the  time  you  went 
to  Europe.  We  wanted  another ;  and,  bearing  of  this 
Miss  Hale,  — of  her  remarkable  talent  for  teacbing,  and 
that  she  had  finished  her  engagement  with  the  IMasons, 
who  were  about  to  leave  the  country,  —  we  took  a  ride 
of  twenty  miles  to  intercept  her  journey  home.  By 
tempting  offers,  we  succeeded  in  securing  her  services, 
and  at  once  brought  her  home  with  us.  By  her  correct 
deportment  and  many  endearing  qualities,  she  won  our 
regard  as  no  governess  had  ever  done  before.  After- 
wards, when  we  all  came  down  with  the  fever,  and  the 
servants  were  frightened  half  out  of  their  senses,  and 
the  neighbors  dared  not  come  near  us,  I  have  no  doubt 
but  that  she  saved  all  our  lives,  by  her  calm  courage  in 
the  hour  of  danger,  her  firmness  in  managing  the  ser- 
vants, and  that  tender,  protecting  care,  that  surrounded 
us  day  and  night  with  all  a  sister's  or  daughter  s  watch- 
ful solicitude.  Could  we  be  otherwise  than  grateful? 
She  took  the  disease  from  us,  and  came  near  forfeiting 
her  life  to  her  philanthrox^y.  But  she  lias  a  good  con- 
stitution, and  recovered  very  soon.  She  has  ever  since 
seemed  like  one  of  our  own  family,  —  as  dear  almost  as 
Lucy  herself.     What,  then,  could  I  say,  when  we  came 


THE   WEDDING  AT   HUNTER   HH^LS.  17 

home  last  summer,  found  Lloyd  here,  and  was  told  by 
him,  that,  in  spite  of  his  affair  with  Nell,  he  had  loved 
Catharine  always ;  that  their  estrangement  had  cast  a 
dark  shadow  over  his  life ;  and,  now  that  it  was  dissi- 
pated, he  wanted  my  consent  to  make  her  his  wife? 
What  indeed  could  I  say,  but  that  we  all  loved  her,  owed 
her  a  deep  debt  of  gratitude,  and,  if  she  cared  for  him,  I 
would  not  be  the  one  to  stand  in  his  way  ?  I  think  my 
experience  with  Lucy  made  me  a  little  more  lenient  than 
I  otherwise  should  have  been.  Yet,  after  all  my  conde- 
scension, he  had  hard  work  to  get  her  consent,  she  was  so 
strongly  opposed  to  slavery  ;  and  it  took  me  — proud  old 
aristocrat  as  they  call  me  —  to  convince  a  poor  Yankee 
governess  that  she  could  do  more  good  by  becoming  my 
son's  wife,  and  the  lenient  mistress  of  hundreds  of 
slaves,  than  in  any  other  way ;  so  she  yielded  the  point 
at  last." 

"  But  do  you  know  any  thing  of  her  family  ?  ^' 
"  Oh,  yes  !  Lucy,  who,  jou  know,  was  educated  in  Kew 
England  before  the  others  went  there,  also  boarded  in 
her  mother's  family.  Though  not  rich,  she  says  they  are 
highly  respectable,  and  that  Mrs.  Hale,  who  is  a  widow, 
is  a  sensible,  noble-souled  Christian  woman,  who  was 
then  making  the  most  energetic  and  persevering  efforts 
to  educate  and  bring  up  her  family  respectably.  There 
were  four  of  the  children  :  Theodore,  who  was  about  the 
age  of  Lloyd  and  Philip,  won  the  valedictory,  both  in 
school  and  college,  and  is  now  studying  law ;  while 
Harry,  the  younger  brother,  is  in  the  engineering  service. 
We  see  for  ourselves  what  Catharine  is ;  and  Lucy,  who 
loved  her  as  a  child,  is  quite  ready  to  receive  her  as  a 
sister.  She  says,  too,  that  Jessie,  the  pet  of  the  flock, 
who  is   about  to  marry  a   young   Dr.  Morven,  was  the 

2* 


18    THE  REBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  LRIBE. 

sweetest  and  loveliest  child  she  ever  saw.  But,  if  all  the 
rest  of  us  are  well  enough  suited,  Jane  is  not ;  and, 
though  she  says  little,  I  can  see  that  she  thinks  Lloyd 
is  making  a  sad  mesalliance.  She  says  Lloyd  is 
blinded,  and  that  I  am  old  and  childish,  or  I  would 
never  have  given  my  consent.  Perhaps  I  am ;  but 
somehow,  of  late,  true  love  seems  more  precious  to 
me  than  gold,  or  all  merely  worldly  distinctions.  I 
value  personal  qualifications,  too,  a  great  deal  higher 
than  I  did ;  and  I  think  there  are  few  to  be  compared 
with  our  Catharine  in  mind  or  person.  She  is  going 
home  in  June ;  and  in  the  autumn  Lloyd  intends  to 
bring  her  back  as  his  bride.  I  tell  you  all  this  in  confi- 
dence, colonel ;  for  as  yet  no  one  knows  it  out  of  our 
family :  and  I  prefer  it  should  not  be  known.  I  would 
like  to  have  you  become  acquainted  with  her,  so  as  to 
see  if  your  opinion  will  not  justify  Lloyd's  choice." 

"  It  does  already,  so  far  as  the  eyesight  is  concerned," 
said  the  colonel,  smiling  at  the  old  gentleman's  confi- 
dences, yet  not  with  the  satisfaction  he  would  have  felt, 
had  that  choice  been  a  different  one.  "  She  is  certainly 
beautiful.  She  has  a  splendid  form;  and  no  lady  on 
this  floor  queens  it  with  quite  so  royal  a  grace,"  he 
continued. 

"  Ay !  Queen  .  Elizabeth,  Victoria,  or  even  the  fair 
Eugenia  herself,  ain't  a  touch  to  her,  in  my  opinion ;  and 
I'm  a  pretty  good  judge  of  women.  If  I  was  forty 
years  younger,  and  a  single  man,  I  think  the  lucky  dog 
would  have  a  rival,  and  a  persevering  one  too ; "  and 
the  old  major  laughed  merrily  over  the  idea.  ''  What  say 
you,  colonel?  Shall  I  introduce  you  when  this  dance 
is  over,  and  secure  her  for  your  first  partner?" 

"  As  you  please.     She  is  probably  engaged  j "  and  his 


THE  WEDDING  AT   HUNTER   HH^LS.  19 

eyes  followed  her  admiringly,  as  Lloyd  led  her  to  a 
seat. 

''Come,  then;  we  will  see;"  and,  advancing  at  once, 
the  major  presented  his  friend  and  brother,  Col.  Ather- 
ton. 

Of  course  Catharine  was  pleased  to  receive  such 
thoughtful  attention  from  the  father  of  her  affianced  hus- 
band ;  but,  when  she  looked  up  to  meet  the  gaze  of  Col. 
Atherton's  dark,  magnetic  eyes,  she  felt  a  tremor  of  the 
nerves  for  which  she  could  not  account,  and  received 
the  introduction  with  unusual  embarrassment.  She 
had  never  seen  Col.  Atherton  before ;  and,  though  some- 
what prejudiced  against  him,  as  the  father  of  Nell  and 
Philip,  whom  she  had  long  ago  had  reason  for  distrust- 
ing, was  particularly,  and  not  unfavorably,  impressed  by 
his  appearance. 

He  was  tall  and  commanding  in  person,  courteous 
and  gentlemanly  in  manners,  easy  and  polished  in  his 
address,  and  with  a  peculiar  tact  in  conversation  that 
set  Catharine  at  her  ease  when  he  once  began  to  ad- 
dress her. 

He  asked  her  hand  for  the  dance ;  and,  though  much 
surprised,  she  accorded  it,  and  continued  conversing  with 
him,  upon  different  topics,  until  they  were  ready  to 
begin. 

She  rather  liked  him,  upon  the  whole,  and  was  not 
sorry  she  had  accepted  him  for  a  partner  when  Philip, 
too,  came  to  ask  her;  and  she  was  rather  amused  than 
otherwise  at  Philip's  suspicious  glance  at  him  when  he 
left  them  together. 

In  music  and  dancing  and  song,  and  games  of  vari- 
ous kinds,  the  evening  passed  delightfully  away.  The 
elderly  ladies   discussed   fashions,  etiquette,  their  chil- 


20        THE*  EEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

dren,  servants,  and  domestic  matters  generally ;  while 
the  gentlemen  talked  of  foreign  affairs,  as  well  as  dogs 
and  horses,  negroes  and  crops ;  but,  more  than  all,  of 
Secession,  which  was  beginning,  just  then,  to  agitate 
the  heart,  and  unsettle  the  brain,  of  Old  Virginia. 

It  was  known  throughout  the  house  that  South  Caro- 
lina had  seceded  from  the  Union  but  a  few  days  pre- 
Tious.  Before  the  evening  was  over,  a  note  was  brought 
to  Major  Hunter,  from  Gov.  Letcher,  excusing  his  non- 
attendance,  on  the  plea  of  urgent  business  ;  and  saying, 
informalh^,  that  Ife  was  about  to  call  a  convention  rela- 
tive to  joining  the  proposed  Southern  Confederacy,  and 
taking  Virginia  out  of  the  Union. 

"Take  Virginia  out  of  the  Union!"  exclaimed  the 
major  indignantly,  as  he  read  it.  ^'  Wliy,  it  is  rank  trea- 
son to  talk  of  it,  much  more  to  act  upon  it.  I  advise 
you  all  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  gentlemen.  I 
have  fought  too  long  under  the  glorious  old  banner  of 
the  stars  to  consent  to  see  it  trailing  in  the  dust." 

"Better  trample  upon  a  soiled  old  banner  than  the 
brave  hearts  of  our  Southern  people.  They  have  borne 
that  from  the  cowardly  Xorth  long  enough,  in  my  esti- 
mation," said  a  bystander. 

"When,  where,  and  how  ?  "  demanded  the  major  with 
flashing  eyes  and  excited  tones. 

"  In  Congress  and  out  of  it ;  at  home  and  abroad  ;  in 
city  and  country ;  at  hotels,  and  in  steamboats  and  rail- 
cars,  —  everywhere,  in  fact,  where  Northern  and  South- 
em  people  come  together,  we  have  to  hear  their  eter- 
nal abolition  howling." 

^•'  Would  it  be  less,  were  we,  like  a  rotten  branch,  sev- 
ered from  the  glorious  old  Union  tree  ?  " 

"  Yes :  for  then  we  would  have  nothing  to  do  with 
them." 


THE  WEDDING  AT   IIITNTER   HILLS.  21 

"  All !  but,  if  we  had  nothing  to  do  with  them,  who 
would  manufacture  our  clothing  ?  and  where  would  be 
the  market  for  our  cotton,  tobacco,  and  cane  ?  " 

"In  Europe,  where  we  could  find  perfection  in  manu- 
factures, equals  for  associates,  and  friends  who  would  be 
true  to  us." 

"  And  where  they  despise  our  peculiar  institutions 
much  more  than  they  do  in  New  England,"  said  the 
major  excitedly;  "where  tliey  consider  slavery  the 
most  horrible  crime  on  earth,  and  a  slave-breeder  worthy 
of  the  hottest  berth  in  hell." 

"Father!  father!  this  is  not  the  place  ioY  such  dis- 
cussions," whispered  Lucy  anxiously  at  that  moment. 
"  Pray  remember  what  is  due  to  our  guests  !  " 

"Yes,  yes:  all  in  good  time,  my  daughter,"  said  he 
impatiently.  "  I  am  an  old  man,  of  full  threescore  and 
ten.  I  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  the  world.  I  may  not 
live  long.  And  there  may  never  come  a  better  time  for 
me  to  tell  these  gentlemen,  that,  if  they  touch  this  red- 
hot  pitch  of  secession,  they  will  get  their  fingers  burned. 
I  know  that  the  spirit  of  it  is  burning  in  their  hearts : 
I  see  it  flashing  from  their  eyes.  It  needs  but  a  spark 
to  kindle  it  into  a  flame.  Once  kindled,  all  the  water 
in  the  Potomac  could  not  quench  it.  Water !  It  must 
be  blood!  Hi  vers  of  that  will  flow,  if  Virginia  joins  ia 
this  hot-headed  conspiracy  against  the  government." 

"  Little  fear  of  that,  major,  —  little  fear  of  that,"  said 
his  opponent.  "  The  Yankees  will  boast  and  brag  and 
cheat  and  bluster;  but,  when  it  comes  to  blows,  they 
are  all  cowards,  and  will  stuff  their  lying  mouths  with 
cotton,  and  run  like  a  pack  of  whipped  hounds." 

"  I  know  you  all  think  so,"  returned  the  major ;  "  but 
you'll  find  yourselves  mistaken ;  for  I  have  fought  be- 


22    THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

side  Northern  troops  long  enough  to  know  wliat  stuflf 
they're  made  of.  Though  not  quite  as  ready  as  we  are 
to  rush  into  a  fray,  their  courage  is  quite  equal  to,  and 
their  endurance  far  greater  than  our  own.  Toughened, 
many  of  them,  by  hard  labor,  they  have  nerves  like  steel ; 
while  we  of  the  better  class  are,  some  of  us,  enervated 
by  a  life  of  luxury.  You  may  frown,  gentlemen  ;  but 
you  know  that  it  is  the  truth:  and  you  deceive  your- 
selves when  you  think  such  men  will  not  fight  till  their 
last  breath  to  prevent  the  downfall  of  this  republic, 
and  the  dissolution  of  the  Union." 

"Let  'em  fight,  then,"  said  his  opponent  doggedly. 
"  If  it  comes  to  blows,  we'll  whip  'em  within  an  inch  of 
their  lives,  and  string  that  renegade  Southerner,  Lin- 
coln, up  on  a  gallows  higher  than  Haman's,  in  a  fort- 
night." 

"  Don't  you  believe  that,"  said  the  old  man  solemnly. 
"  Those  bloody-minded  seceding  States  at  the  South  of 
us,  thinking  just  as  you  do,  are  but  waiting  for  the 
countenance  of  old  Virginia  to  commence  the  strife,  and 
march  on  to  the  Capitol ;  considering  its  treasures  and 
rich  spoils  an  easy  prey.  But  remember  what  I  tell 
you,  gentlemen  :  if  Virginia  does  this  thing,  it  is  at 
a  fearful  price,  —  the  price  of  blood,  —  the  blood  of 
her  best,  her  bravest,  and  her  noblest  sons,  —  and  the 
desolation  of  her  fairest  fields,  forests,  and  homesteads. 
For  here  would  they  all  congregate, —  from  east  and 
west,  north  and  south,  —  because  it  is  a  central  point, 
and  near  to  the  Capitol ;  and  here  would  be  some  of  the 
bloodiest  battle-grounds  of  the  Union.  Here  brother 
would  meet,  and  war  with  brother,  and  father  against 
son ;  destroying  every  human  and  fraternal  tie  that 
binds  us  to  our  nation  and  our  race  :   and  bitterly  would 


THE   WEDDING   AT   HUNTER   HILLS.  23 

we  rue  the  day  when  we  joined  in  so  unlioly  an  alli- 
ance !  " 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  which,  thougli  few  tliere 
believed  them  then,  have  since  proved  so  prophetic, 
the  white-haired,  noble  old  man's  face  grew  pale  with 
emotion  ;  his  wide-open  eyes  fixed  themselves  on  va- 
cancy, with  a  deep,  far-reaching  expression,  as  if  he 
were  looking  off  into  the  distant  future,  and,  with  a 
solemn  prescience,  beholding  the  bloody  scenes  since 
recorded  upon  history's  pages,  —  in  one  of  which  he 
was  destined  to  become  a  victim. 

So  different  did  he  seem  from  the  jovial,  garrulous, 
and  somewhat  childish  old  man  of  the  past  few  hours, 
that  many  were  particularly  struck  by  the  change  ;  and 
though  still  disbelieving  his  opinions,  and  sure  of  the 
truth  of  their  own  convictions,  they  thought  it  best  to 
let  the  subject  drop. 

As  it  was  getting  late,  most  of  the  guests  soon  after- 
wards bade  adieu  to  their  entertainers  and  the  bridal 
party,  and  the  company  dispersed. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

SCHEMING.  BROKEN  BONDS. 

I^^MONG  the  guests  who  were  invited  to  spend 
4^  the  week  at  Hunter  House  were  the  Ather- 
tons  and  Tremonts,  who,  as  we  have  already- 
said,  were  near  connections  of  the  Hunter 
family. 

Having  been  separated  so  long,  by  the  absence  of 
the  two  former  families  in  Europe,  they  of  course  had  a 
great  many  things  to  talk  over ;  though  the  Athertons 
were  as  yet  a  little  careful  about  displaying  their  strong 
secession  proclivities.  For  Grace  Tremont  and  Helen, 
her  half-sister,  and  Lloyd  Hunter  and  his  sister  Lucy, 
had  inherited  large  fortunes  from  an  uncle  of  theirs, 
who  was  the  judge's  only  brother,  as  Lloyd's  mother 
had  been  his  only  sister.  And  knowing  all  this,  and 
knowing,  too,  the  loyalty  of  the  two  families,  the  Ath- 
ertons had  thought  it  advisable  to  secure  this  wealth, 
if  possible,  before  fully  and  finally  and  openly  announ- 
cing their  determination  to  join  the  secession  party. 

So  Miss  Xellie  Atherton,  who  knew  of  his  engage- 
ment, from  her  aunt,  did  her  best,  in  the  succeeding 
days,  to  excuse  her  conduct  in  Paris,  and  win  Lloyd 
Hunter  back  to  his  allegiance.  And  Philip  took  this 
last   opportunity   for  daily  intercourse  to   urge    Grace 

24 


SCHEMING. — BROKEN  BONDS.       25 

Tremont  to  fulfil  a  partial  and  long-standing  engage- 
ment by  an  immediate  marriage.  He  pleaded,  urged, 
reasoned,  and  entreated,  but  all  in  vain  ;  and  at  last  he 
got  so  angry,  that  he  would  not  speak  to  her  for  several 
days.  Then  he  was  all  attention  to  Catharine,  Nettie 
Clyde,  and  Bess  Hamilton  ;  and,  being  remarkably 
handsome,  polished,  and  captivating,  made  his  atten- 
tions to  the  two  latter  very  acceptable.  But  Catharine 
distrusted,  and  was  shy  of  him.  By  a  mutual  under- 
standing, she  and  Lloyd,  though  sufficiently  polite, 
avoided  each  other,  not  caring  just  yet  to  publish  their 
engagement;  yet,  because  they  were  engaged,  careful 
about  encouraging  the  attentions  of  others.  Yet  Cath- 
arine appeared  to  great  advantage  in  the  days  following 
the  bridal ;  winning  golden  opinions  by  her  rare  mu- 
sical and  mental  gifts,  and  disarming  by  her  unobtru- 
siveness  some  who  were  inclined  to  be  intolerant. 

Miss  Atherton,  however,  took  pains  to  make  it 
pretty  evident  that  she  considered  her  beneath  her 
notice,  and  especially  after  trying  in  vain  to  win  Lloyd 
back.  It  maddened  her  to  see  the  eager  flush  come 
over  his  cheek,  and  the  love-light  in  his  eyes,  when 
Catharine  came  near  him,  and  compare  it  with  the 
indifference  with  which  he  evidently  regarded  her. 
She  flirted  desperately  with  Harry  Clyde  and  Hugh 
Carrol,  old  admirers  of  hers ;  while  Philip  did  the  same 
with  Bess  and  Nettie  :  but  it  was  all  of  no  use,  so  far  as 
winning  Lloj^'d  back  was  concerned,  or  driving  Grace 
from  her  defensive  position. 

But,  notwithstanding  these  and  a  good  many  other 
little  by-plays,  every  thing  seemed  to  go  on  merrily; 
and  every  effort  was  made  b}''  the  generous  and  truly 
hospitable  family  to  amuse  and  entertain  their  guests. 

3 


26         THE   EEBEL   GEXERAL's   LOYAL   BRIDE. 

The  weather  liad  been  fine  for  the  last  of  December: 
and  there  had  been  innumerable  walks  and  drives  to 
view  the  varied  and  beautiful  scenery  around  the  Hunter 
Hills,  with  athletic  games,  and  shooting  excursions  out 
of  doors,  and  gentler  sports  within,  such  as  music, 
dancing,  amateur  theatricals,  and  tableaux. 

The  gentlemen  had  discussed  fanning,  politics,  law, 
theology,  and  secession ;  and  the  ladies  domestic  af- 
fairs until  they  were  tired,  and  it  was  decided  unani- 
mously that  their  own  required  them  at  home.  The 
evening  before  their  departure,  and  the  breaking-up 
of  the  party,  Lloyd  Hunter  went  down  to  the  slave- 
cabins  for  something,  and  was  returning  to  the  man- 
sion, when  he  came  across  Philip  Atherton  going  the 
same  way  as  himself. 

There  had  been  a  great  friendship  between  these 
young  men  in  days  past  and  gone,  even  though  they 
were  opposites  in  character.  But  since  their  return 
from  Europe,  and  Lloyd's  engagement  to  Catharine,  a 
coldness  and  distance  had  grown  up  between  them,  that 
it  was  no  easy  matter  to  get  over.  During  the  last 
day  or  twx),  however,  they  had  had  considerable  debate 
upon  the  all-absorbing  topic  of  secession  ;  and  now  it 
was  renewed  again.  They  entered  the  garden  by  a 
little  wicket,  to  shorten  the  distance  to  the  mansion,  and 
walked  up  towards  the  fountain.  Becoming  earnest 
and  excited  in  their  discussion,  they  sat  down  upon  a 
garden-seat,  deeply  shadowed  by  evergreens,  and  at  once 
went  into  the  subject  as  they  had  never  done  before. 

For,  angry  with  Grace  and  her  father,  and  tired  of 
concealment,  Philip  had  resolved  to  throw  off  the  mask, 
and,  if  he  could,  win  Lloyd  over  to  the  ranks  of  seces- 
sion. 


SCHE^nNG.  —  BROKEyr    BONDS.  27 

In  spite  of  his  fiitlier's  contrary  opinions,  Lloyd  be- 
lieved, like  multitudes  of  otlier  young  Southerners,  in 
the  right  of  a  State  to  secede,  and  have  an  independent 
government,  and  that  it  was  the  duty  of  every  good 
citizen  to  uphold  her  in  that  right,  if  a  majority  of  her 
people  so  decided.  But  ho  did  not  think  it  politic  or 
wise  to  do  so  at  that  time  ;  that  any  of  the  States  had 
as  yet  any  just  cause  for  doing  so  ;  or  that  they  could  at 
all  sustain  themselves  if  they  did. 

Philip,  however,  thought  secession  not  only  just  and 
right,  hut  that  Lincoln's  election,  which  had  shorn  the 
South  of  her  power,  and  of  course  endangered  slavery, 
had  made  it  absolutely  necessary  for  her  to  throw  off  the 
galling  chain  that  had  bound  her  too  long  to  a  Union 
that  oppressed  her.  and  had  no  sympathy  for  her  peculiar 
institutions.  He  believed,  too,  that,  united  in  one,  the 
South  could  abundantly  sustain  herself  against  all  the 
power  that  could  be  brouglit  to  bear  upon  her  by  the 
Federal  government. 

As  the  sun  went  down  in  a  flood  of  golden  glory,  and 
the  soft,  wintry  twilight  fell  around  them,  tlie  two  young 
men  eagerly  continued  their  discussion,  each  bringing 
his  best  arguments  to  bear  upon  the  case,  to  convince,  if 
possible,  his  sturdy  opponent. 

Suddenly  they  were  startled  by  the  sound  of  low, 
sweet-toned  female  voices,  apparently  quite  as  eager  in 
debate  as  their  own  ;  and  then  a  couple  of  female  figures 
came  sauntering  slowly  down  towards  the  fountain,  near 
which  they  were  stationed.  With  an  exclamation  of 
impatience,  Philip  paused  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence ; 
and  both  were  silent  in  the  hope  that  the  intruders 
would  pass  on.  Instead  of  this,  however,  they  stepped 
up  to  the  fountain,  and,  turning  their  faces  to  the  light; 


28    THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

Lloyd  saw  that  it  was  Miss  Nellie  Atherton  and  her 
pretty  quadroon  attendant,  Jett,  who  had  been  her  wait- 
ing-maid during  her  stay  in  Europe,  and  also  when  she 
was  at  school  years  before  in  New  England. 

The  fountain  was  covered  in  frost-work  and  glittering 
icicles ;  and,  as  their  animated  discussion  went  on,  Nell 
began  whipping  them  off  with  a  willow  twig  she  held  in 
her  white,  jewelled  hand. 

"  I  say,  miss,  you'll  be  sorry  if  you  don't,"  said  the 
slave-girl  eagerly. 

"I  expect  to  be,"  Nell  returned;  "yet  I  can't  bring 
myself  to  the  point  of  doing  what  a  sense  of  right  and 
truth  and  justice  demands." 

'-  Or  let  me  do  it  ?  " 

^'  Or  let  you  do  it,  for  that  would  be  just  the  same  as 
doing  it  myself." 

"  But  Jett  thinks  it  too  bad  to  let  sich  a  grand  family 
as  the  Hunters  —  your  own  aunt's  family  too  —  be  so 
awfully  imposed  upon  by  that  good-for-nothing  Yankee 
trollop.  And  Massa  Lloyd  sich  a  fine,  handsome  young 
gentleman,  too,  and  the  biggest  match  in  all  the  country." 

Lloyd,  out  of  politeness,  had  risen  from  his  seat,  and 
was  just  about  stepping  forward  to  make  his  presence 
known,  when  these  words  smote  upon  his  ear  with  the 
force  of  a  blow.  It  levelled  him  at  once,  in  his  descent 
unconsciously  grasping  Philip's  arm,  and  holding  him 
like  a  vise,  when  he  was  apparently  trying  to  rise  and 
rush  forward. 

"  I  know  it's  too  bad,"  echoed  Miss  Nellie ;  "  but  what 
can  I  do  ?  I  commanded  you  to  be  silent  when  we  dis- 
covered her  shameful  intrigues  and  midnight  meetings 
with  Dr.  Morven,  more  than  six  years  ago.  And,  when  I 
knew  that  Philip  found  it  out,  I  swore  him  to  secrecy. 


SCHE^nXG.  —  BROKEN   BONDS.  29 

He  was  very  ready  to  do  this,  because  lie  was  so  be- 
witched about  that  silly  little  flirt,  Jessie.  For  her  sake 
he  wished  to  save  the  honor  of  the  family.  Philip 
thought  Lloyd  had  discovered  the  intrigue  himself,  and 
that  the  discovery  was  the  reason  he  left  her  as  he  did, 
after  paying  her  so  much  attention.  But,  if  so,  I  can't 
imagine  by  what  liocus  pocus  she  has  got  round  him  at 
last.  I  wouldn't  let  you  tell  of  it  when  we  got  home, 
because  I  didn't  want  people  to  know  that  we  had  asso- 
ciated so  long  with  so  vile  a  creature. '^ 

"  Jett  knows  all  that ;  and,  if  the  girl  stay  to  home, 
where  she  belongs,  nobody  care.  She  good  nuff  for  them 
abolishum  fellers.  But,  when  she  cum  down  here  to 
trap  fine  Virginny  gentlemans,  she  think  it  alter  the  case, 
and  miss  orter  tell." 

"  0  Jett !  you  know  well  enough  why  I  cannot ;  if  I 
had  not  myself  loved  Lloj^^d  Hunter;  if  I  had  not  been 
engaged  to  him ;  if  I  had  not  lost  him  by  my  own 
thoughtless  folly,  sacrificing  the  whole  happiness  of  my 
life  for  the  pleasure  of  flirting  with  one  1  despised  and 
scorned,"  she  passionately  exclaimed, — "then  Lloyd 
Hunter  should  know  the  truth  ;  and  "  — 

"  Hold !  Stop,  Xell,  for  God's  sake  !  "  gasped  Philip, 
as  if  just  recovering  from  a  trance  of  surprise,  and 
seized  with  a  sudden  fear  of  ^N^ell's  exposing  to  Lloyd 
Hunter  the  hidden  secrets  of  her  heart. 

And  Nell,  with  a  little  shriek  of  wounded  delicacy, 
turned  towards  them  for  an  instant,  and  then,  followed 
by  her  sable  attendant,  ran  swiftly  towards  the  mansion. 

It  was  indeed  a  well-acted  performance.  And  who, 
in  Lloyd's  place,  would  have  dreamed  that  it  had  all  been 
rehearsed,  not  an  hour  before,  in  Miss  Nellie  Atherton's 
chamber. 

3* 


80        THE  EEBEL  GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

To  describe  the  feelings  of  Lloyd  Hunter,  as,  with  a 
face  turning  to  a  deadly  white,  he  listened  to  those  damn- 
ing words,  would  be  impossible.  Nor  did  he  know,  till 
the  treacherous  Philip  cried  out  with  pain,  how  tightly 
he  was  grasping  him. 

For  several  minutes  after  Xell  was  gone,  Lloyd  sat 
still  as  death  :  then,  turning  fiercely  to  Philip,  lie  said,  — 

"Philip  Atherton,  was  that  — that  the  truth?" 

**I  fear  so,"  returned  Philip  in  a  deprecating  tone. 

^'  But  did  you  know  it  to  be  a  fact  ?  " 

"  Did  you  not  know  it  yourself,  Lloyd  Hunter  ?  " 

"  Alas  !  yes,  —  at  least  by  circumstantial  evidence." 

"And  that  was  the  reason  j^ou  left  her,  without  an  ex- 
planation or  one  kindl}' word,  more  than  six  years  ago?" 

"  Yes  :  that  is  the  truth,"  groaned  Lloyd.  '•  I  found  a 
note,  addressed  to  him,  and  signed  by  her  name,  ap- 
pointing a  midnight  meeting ;  and,  at  the  hour  named, 
I  saw  some  one  wrapped  in  her  shawl  go  to  the  summer- 
house,  and  there  meet  a  man  who  came  in  from  the  ad- 
joining grounds," 

"  Well,  what  more  do  you  want  ?  And  how  did  you 
get  over  that  ?  " 

'•Oh  I'she  looked  so  innocent,  and  acted  so  nobly,  and 
I  loved  her  so  well,  that  I  was  ready  to  believe  her  asser- 
tion that  it  was  all  a  vile  plot  and  forgery,  got  up  by 
some  enemy  to  ruin  her  in  my  esteem." 

"And  now  that  you  know  others  saw  it  too,  night 
after  nif^ht  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  I  must  renounce  her,  if  it  breaks  my  heart." 
"    "Ah!    hearts   are  not  so   easily  broken.     I   thought 
mine  would  break,  when  I  found,  years  ago,  that  sweet 
little  Jessie  was  no  better  than  she  should  be ;    but  it 
didn't :  and  I  guess  you  will  survive,  if  you  do  step  out 


SCHEMING.  —  BROKEN  BONDS.       31 

of  the  siren's  snare.  I  believe  we  were  all  bewitched  p\ 
those  days,  and  saw  every  thing  through  magnifying- 
glasses,  —  Grace  as  well, as  the  rest  of  us.  She  seems 
perfectly  fascinated  by  Kate  still,  and  is  thinking  of 
Theo,  I  fancy.  But  she  had  better  look  out  how  she 
plays  high  games  with  me  now ;  for  I  will  not  bear 
them." 

The  two  young  men  continued  to  converse  for  some 
time  upon  the  same  old  subjects,  —  Philip  fully  substan- 
tiating every  vile  assertion  regarding  poor  Catharine 
by  numerous  facts  that  had  come  to  his  own  private 
knowledge  at  the  time  of  their  occurrence,  and  bring- 
ing such  a  weight  of  corroborative  evidence  to  prove 
them,  that  Lloyd  could  doubt  no  longer. 

To  believe,  brought  with  it  the  keen  agony  of  separa- 
tion, the  bitter  necessity  of  renouncing  one  who  had 
become  dear  as  his  life  to  him  ;  and,  with  such  a  multi- 
tude of  facts  staring  him  in  the  face,  how  could  he  dis- 
believe ? 

It  maddened  him,  too,  to  think  what  a  dupe  he  had 
been  ;  and  Nell's  confession  of  love  for  liim,  and  for- 
bearing nobleness,  in  comparison  with  Catharine's  false- 
hood and  deception,  raised  her  at  once  far  higher  in  his 
esteem  than  she  had  ever  been  before. 

The  suspicion  that  there  was  any  plot  or  complicity 
between  jSTell  and  Philip,  though  it  occurred  to  him, 
seemed  disproved  by  all  the  attending  circumstances ; 
for  he  had  overtaken  Philip  a  long  way  from  the  man- 
sion, and  going  towards  it ;  while  the  others  were  coming 
directly  from  it. 

Silly  fellow !  As  if  Philip  had  not  been  sent  out  on 
purpose  to  be  waylaid,  so  as  to  bring  his  victim  into  the 
toils,  and,  when  it  was  all  over,  returned  triumphant  to 
report  his  complete  success. 


32    THE  KEBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

Por  Laving  been  born  of,  and  reared  by,  a  proud, 
scheming,  irreligious  mother,  —  to  say  nothing  of  the 
father, — intrigue  was  the  breath  of  life  to  both  Nell 
and  Philip  Atherton  ;  and,  to  the  few  who  knew  it,  it 
was  a  sad  drawback  to  the  beautj^,  graces,  talents,  and 
accomplishments  every  one  allowed  them  to  possess  in 
a  very  high  degree. 

Catharine  noticed  during  the  evening  that  Lloyd 
watched  her  furtively,  but  never  once  came  near  or 
spoke  to  her;  and  she  felt  that  something  had  gone 
wrong.  But  her  true  heart  did  not  take  the  alarm 
until  she  heard  the  announcement,  that  he  had  decided 
to  leave  next  day  with  the  party  who  were  going  to 
Richmond,  —  including  the  Tremonts  and  Athertons. 
He  had  said  never  a  word  to  her  of  such  a  plan  ;  so 
the  news  came  over  her  like  a  shock.  She  felt  instinct- 
ively that  something  had  happened  to  alienate  him,  and 
that  it  was  to  avoid  her  that  he  was  leaving  his  home 
at  this  time. 

She  had  feared  some  such  thing  from  the  hour  of 
Nellie  Atherton's  arrival,  and  persevering  attempts  to 
ignore  and  put  her  down  as  far  as  she  could.  She  had 
felt,  years  ago,  as  if  the  mj'stery  of  Lloyd's  alienation 
pointed  to  Nell,  more  than  any  one  else,  for  its  solution. 
And  the  almost  certain  knowledge,  that,  in  the  school- 
rivalries  of  other  days,  Nell  had  procured  and  destroyed  a 
fine  composition  of  hers,  upon  which  a  handsome  prize 
depended,  assured  her  that  she  would  do  almost  any  thing 
to  carry  out  her  plans.  She  had  herself,  by  chance,  found 
the  remains  of  the  burned  composition  behind  the  fire- 
board  in  Nell's  room;  secretl}^  and  indignantly  rewrit- 
ten it  at  the  last  moment ;  and,  most  unexpectedly  to 
Nell,  won  the  first  prize.     And  for  this  she  felt  as  if 


SCHEMING.  —  BROKEN  BONDS.       33 

that  young  lady  had  never  forgiven  her,  even  though  no 
one  knew  it  but  themselves. 

That  was  a  sleepless  night  to  both  Lloyd  and  Catha- 
rine ;  and  both  looked  pale  and.  wretched  enough  at  the 
breakfast-table  next  morning. 

When  the  meal  was  over,  as  had  been  previously 
arranged,  the  carriages  were  ordered,  and  amid  smiles 
and  tears,  kisses  and  fond  embraces,  the  farewells  were 
spoken,  the  bride  bade  adieu  to  her  early  home,  and  the 
bridal  party  broke  up. 

Amid  the  general  bustle,  no  one  but  herself  noticed 
that  Lloyd  said  never  a  word  to  his  betrothed,  and 
that  his  only  farewell  was  a  cold  parting  clasp  of  a  hand 
that  left  within  her  own  his  letter  of  renunciation.  She 
took  it,  witli  a  pale  cheek,  quivering  lip,  foreboding 
heart,  and  questioning  glance,  that  had  in  it  a  world  of 
appealing  tenderness  ;  and,  with  trembling  fingers,  she 
transferred  it  to  her  pocket,  and  turned  away  to  hide  the 
gathering  storm  of  tears  until  the  guests  had  de- 
parted. 

Once  alone  in  her  room,  the  restraints  were  thrown 
off,  and  she  wept  long  and  bitterly,  with  such  a  feeling 
of  loneliness  and  desolation  as  had  never  come  to  her 
before. 

She  had  forgotten  to  lock  her  door;  and,  in  the  midst 
of  her  trouble,  a  dark  form  glided  in,  and  a  hand  that 
seemed  just  like  her  mother's  was  laid  upon  her  bowed 
head,  and  began  smoothing  her  soft,  shining  auburn  hair. 

She  raised  her  tear-stained  face,  and  seeing  that  it 
was  Aunt  Dinah,  the  kind  old  slave-nurse  and  house- 
keeper, exclaimed  almost  angrily,  "  Why  are  3'ou  here  ?  " 
for  she  was  ashamed  to  have  even  a  slave  witness  her 
weakness  and  humiliation.    "  Don't,  don't !  "  said  Dinah 


34    THE  EEBEL  GENEBAL'S  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

deprecatingly  and  pityingly.  "  Dinah  see  an'  hear  it 
all,  goin''  up  an'  dou'n  ;  an'  slie  sorry,  drefful  sorry.  She 
know  it  all  wrong  somewhere." 

^•Pray  don't  speak  of  it,  Dinah,"  Catharine  im- 
plored. 

"  Xeher  you  fear.  Mebbe  it  all  come  right  biraeby. 
Any  way,  ole  Dinah  know,  dat,  if  Miss  Kate  mean  right 
and  act  right  herself,  de  good  Fader  can  cure  de  pain  ;  aQ^ 
he  on'y  can.  He  know  all  about  it.  He  can  make  it 
come  right  if  jMiss  Kate  on'y  ask  him." 

'^  Thank  you,  Dinah.  I,  a  professing  Christian,  ought 
to  know  it  too.     X ow  go,  please,"  she  sobbed. 

Dinah  silently  left  the  room ;  and  Catharine,  awed, 
reproved,  and  yet  doubting  God's  goodness,  knelt  down, 
and  offered  up  a  fervent  prayer  for  help  and  guidance. 
And  she  did  rise  up  comforted,  and  strengthened  for 
whatever  trials  were  before  her,  and  gathered  courage 
to  open  Lloyd's  letter,  the  purport  of  which  she  had 
already  guessed :  — 

''  0  vrretched  girl ! "  it  began,  "  was  it  not  enough 
that  you  had  darkened  six  of  the  best  years  of  my 
life  with  bitter  memories,  that  3'ou  must  come  here 
to  my  own  home  to  renew  your  enchantments,  de- 
ceive me  to  my  ruin,  and  wreck  my  peace  of  mind  for- 
ever ?  Oh  !  must  I  believe  that  fair  face  is  but  a  decoy 
to  the  innocent  and  the  unwary  ;  that  graceful  form  but 
a  whited  sepulchre,  —  a  tomb  of  lost  innocence  ;  those 
eyes,  through  which  I  thought  a  pure  soul  looked  forth, 
but  lures  to  entrap  ignorant  dupes  to  their  undoing? 
You  thought,  no  doubt,  that  no  one  here  would  ever  find 
out  your  true  character;  but,  in  spite  of  all  your  pre- 
cautions, the  truth  has  followed,  —  proofs  of  your  infamy 


SCHEMING.  —  BROKEN  BONDS.       85 

tliat  it   is  impossible  to  disbelieve.     As  a  consequence, 
here  and  noiu  I  renounce  all  claim  to  your  band. 

"If  you  are  mercenary  enougli  to  want  pay  for  our 
broken  engagement,  tlie  law  would  perliaps  give  it  you. 
But  I,  witbout  tbat  intervention,  will  give  you  any 
reasonable  sum  3'ou  may  demand,  ratber  tban  link  my 
fortunes  witli  tbose  of  one  wbom  every  principle  of 
bonor  teacbes  me  to  despise  and  scorn. 

"  I  liave  not  informed  my  family  of  wbat  bas  trans- 
pired, and  cannot  do  it  at  present.  As  I  am  going  to 
Ricbmond,  you  can  do  as  you  like  about  leaving,  or 
spreading  reports  tbat  woidd  only  disgrace  yourself  wbile 
you  remain  in  tbe  Soutbern  country. 

"But  for  tbe  sbame  to  us  all  in  proclaiming  tbe 
trutb,  I  would  not  bave  my  young  brotber  and  sisters 
under  3'our  care  anotber  day.  But,  just  now,  I  can't 
bear  to  bave  my  best  friends  knov/  bow  sbamefully  I 
bave  been  imposed  upon.  I  beg  tbat  3'ou  will  remember 
tbat  God  will  require  an  account  of  your  stewardsbip, 
and  tbat  you  will  do  tbem  no  barm.  May  you  repent 
of  3'our  misdeeds !  and  ob,  may  you  never  know  tbe 
bitter  agony  tbat  wrings  my  lieart  in  bidding  you  an 
eternal  farewell 

"L.  H.'^ 

Catbarine's  tears  blinded  ber  as  sbe  read  tins  out- 
pouring of  a  noble  beart,  tbat  sbe  knew  felt  itself  cru- 
elly deceived  and  wronged. 

But,  tbougb  bis  accusations  wrung  ber  own  soul  quite 
as  cruelly,  sbe  could  not  blame  bim  as  sbe  would  bave 
done,  bad  sbe  not  believed  some  enemy  was  at  tbe  bot- 
tom of  tbe  wbole  affair. 

But,  sustained  by  ber  own  conscious  innocence,  and 


86    THE  BEBEL  GENEBAL's  LOYAL  BP.IDE. 

tlie  hope  of  help  from  on  high,  her  mind  at  last  became 
tranquillized.  She  would  not  leave  her  position,  or  fly 
from  the  country  like  the  guilty  thing  he  thought  her, 
unless  obliged  to  do  so,  she  told  lAojd  Hunter  in  lier 
reply;  and  that  she  would  be  glad  to  stand  face  to  face 
with  her  accusers.  They  had  undoubtedly  some  strong 
motive  that  would  appear  in  the  end  for  defaming  one 
who  was  utterlj^  incapable  of  lowering  herself  to  any 
thing  that  was  immoral  or  infamous.  God,  who  knew 
all  hearts,  would,  no  doubt,  make  the  truth  manifest, 
and  support  her  through  the  bitter  trial,  she  added. 

She  neither  expected  nor  received  any  reply  to  this 
letter;  so,  burying  proudly  the  memory  of  her  wrong 
in  her  own  bosom,  she  began  once  more  her  usual  round 
of  duties. 

Long  before  the  wedding  at  Hunter  Hills,  the  mo- 
notonous mutterings  of  secession  and  discontent  had 
been  heard  throughout  our  land,  like  the  roll  of  distant 
thunder.  Soon  afterwards,  like  the  play  of  forked 
lightnings,  could  be  seen  the  fitful  flashes  of  a  strife 
that  was  soon  to  be  hot  and  deadly ;  threatening  the 
disruption  of  all  ties  of  interest  and  affection,  as  well 
as  those  more  enduring  ones  that  bind  the  States  to- 
gether in  one  nation. 

Yet  few  of  us  at  that  time  realized  the  imminent 
danger.  Scarcely  any  one  dreamed  that  this  was  but 
the  prelude  to  an  earthquake  shock  that  was  to  upheave 
existing  institutions,  convulse  a  continent,  disturb  tlie 
commercial  and  financial  relations  of  a  world,  and  bring 
distress  and  ruin,  not  only  to  multitudes  of  our  own 
people,  but  also  to  many  in  distant  regions  of  the  globe. 
But,  after  the  time  of  which  we  have  spoken,  began  a 


SCHEMING.  —  BROKEN  BONDS.       37 

new  phase,  not  only  in  the  history  of  those  old  Virginia 
families,  but  also  of  the  State  and  the  whole  nation. 

The  feeling  for  and  against  secession  every  day  grew 
stronger  and  stronger.  As  the  people  begun  to  take 
sides,  many  who  were  near  relations,  or  had  been  dear 
and  tried  friends,  found  themselves  in  opposite  ranks; 
and  very  soon,  by  the  mere  force  of  circumstances,  they 
became  mortal  enemies,  —  ready  to  appeal  to  arms  to 
establish  their  rights  and  opinions,  and  imbrue  their 
hands  in  each  other's  blood. 

It  was  late  in  December  when  South  Carolina  reck- 
lessly put  herself  out  of  the  pale  of  the  Union.  Before 
January  was  over,  five  or  six  other  States  had  joined 
her,  and  openly  avowed  their  secession  principles 
There  is  no  doubt  that  Virginia,  the  mother  of  presi- 
dents, and  queen  State  of  the  South,  was,  by  her  emis- 
saries, in  league  with  them  from  the  first ;  though  ihe 
was  kept  in  check  by  the  large  number  of  her  loyal 
people.  So  she  waited  until  the  Confederacy  was  de- 
clared. Fort  Sumter  taken,  and  otiier  public  property 
along  the  Southern  border  purloined  or  destroyed,  and 
the  new  President  had  called  for  a  large  army  to  put 
down  the  rebellion,  before  she  ventured  to  come  out 
openly,  and  join  in  a  strife  that  was,  as  Major  Hunter 
had  said,  to  immolate  thousands  of  her  noblest  sons,  and 
drench  her  fair  fields  in  the  most  precious  blood  of  the 
nation.  The  leading  secessionists  in  Virginia  had  only 
waited  for  the  excuse  that  their  rights  were  about  to  be 
invaded  by  the  Federal  power  to  justify  them  in  the 
eyes  of  the  world. 

The  longing  for  the  power  they  had  wielded  for  fifty 
years,  but  lost,  as  they  thought,  by  the  election  of  the 
new  President,  and  the  fear  that,  through  him,  theii 

4 


38        THE  EEBEL  GEXERAL's  LOY^UL,  BEIDE. 

right  to  enslave,  and  enlarge  the  bounds  of  slaver^ 
would  be  interfered  with,  undoubtedly  provoked  the 
whole  South  to  rebellion  at  that  time.  Yet  their  ambi- 
tious leaders  had  been  looking  forward,  and  preparing 
for  some  such  movement  for  years.  During  the  pre- 
vious administration,  wherever  they  could,  they  had 
been  draining  the  public  treasury,  getting  the  best 
arms  into  their  power,  and  sending  every  available  gov- 
ernment vessel  to  distant  regions  of  the  globe,  so  as  to 
weaken  the  hands  of  the  incoming  party,  and  place  it 
at  the  mercy  of  the  leaders  in  the  intended  rebellion. 

Soon  after  the  wedding  at  Hunter  Hills,  and  while 
the  family  were  preparing  to  go  to  Bichmond  to  spend 
the  winter,  Major  Hunter  was  attacked  by  a  fit  of  the 
gout,  which  rendered  him  for  the  time  perfectly  help- 
less. While  thus  confined  at  home,  a  patriotic,  noble- 
souled,  yet  exceedingly  troublesome  invalid,  the  Mont- 
gomery Convention  met,  and  chose  Jefferson  Davis  as 
their  leader;  while  the  Peace  Convention,  which  met 
in  Washington  about  the  same  time,  failed  to  do  any 
thing  to  satisfy  the  clamors  of  the  Southern  people. 

The  major  fumed  and  fretted  and  chafed,  and  some- 
times swore,  when  he  heard  the  news,  —  Catharine  was 
generally  employed  to  read  to  him ;  and  he  cursed  the 
disorder  that  kept  him  an  invalid,  and  prevented  his 
taking  an  active  part  in  the  stirring  scenes  that  were 
being  enacted  all  around  him.  His  lady,  however,  gave 
him  little  consolation.  Much  3'ounger  than  himself, 
with  few  feelings  in  common,  she  had  little  sympathjr 
for  the  ailments  that  kept  her  ^t  home  when  she  was 
longing  for  the  gayeties  of  Richmond.  And,  more  than 
all,  being  connected  with  many  distinguished  rebel 
families  in  the  South,  her  sympathies  were  all  with  the 


SCHEMING.  —  BROKEN  BONDS.       39 

rebelliou.  Having  been  a  belle  and  beauty  in  licr 
younger  days,  though  comparatively  poor,  slie  was  still 
vain  enougli  to  wish  to  keep  up  her  popularit}'-  in  soci- 
ety. Tliis  made  it  peculiarly  irksome  for  her  to  stay  at 
home  with  the  ac^od  and  invalid  husband  she  had  mar- 
ricd  for  his  wealth  and  position,  and  who,  in  his  age 
and  helplessness,  when  slie  herself  had  unexpectedly 
inherited  a  fortune,  she  would  sometimes  gladly  have 
seen  laid  beneath  the  sod.  Her  three  children,  in  whom 
she  worshipped  her  own  beauty,  as  well  as  some  of  their 
father's  noblest  attributes,  were  all  that  reconciled  her 
to  her  present  mode  of  life  at  all ;  and  in  watching 
their  improvement  under  Catharine's  guidance,  and  in 
witnessing  their  wild  frolics,  she  managed  to  exist  until 
this  great  trial  was  over. 

Yet,  so  far  as  she  could,  j\Irs.  Hunter  threw  the  care 
of  nursing  and  entertaining  her  invalid  husband  upon 
Catharine  and  her  children  and  servants.  And  to  the 
former,  with  her  mind  burdened,  not  only  by  her  own 
private  griefs,  but  the  woes  and  distresses  of  her  coun- 
try, it  was  perhaps  a  benefit,  by  occupying  her  mind, 
and  keeping  her  from  dwelling  too  much  upon  the  dark- 
ened personal  and  political  horizon. 

Major  Hunter  had  been  in  the  army  in  his  youthful 
days,  and  had  afterwards  travelled  extensively.  He 
was  possessed  of  vast  stores  of  information,  and  general 
knowledge  of  the  world,  and  liked  to  talk  over  his  past 
experiences.  This  was  irksome  to  his  wife,  but  aiforded 
pleasure  to  Catharine  in  her  present  mood.  Moreover, 
Major  Hunter  continually  admired  her  judgment  and  dis- 
criminating taste,  as  well  as  the  ingenuity  and  fruitful- 
ness  of  a  mind  that  could  relieve  the  ennui  and  wretch- 
edness of  his  wife's  restless  soul. 


40        THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRmE. 

He  had  himself  been  educated  at  the  North,  from 
whence  he  had  brought  a  good  many  ideas  regarding 
human  freedom  that  would  never  have  disturbed  the 
serenity  of  his  soul  had  he  remained  at  home.  With 
these  liberal  ideas,  he  had  acted  in  such  a  way  as  to 
give  offence  to  some  of  his  slaveholding  neighbors, 
who,  believing  that  slavery  and  the  lash  were  made  to 
work  together,  were  constantly  reproached  for  their  cru- 
elty by  his  uniform  kindness  to  his  slaves.  He  had 
inherited  them,  and  believed  he  could  not  get  along 
without  them  :  yet  he  hated  slavery  in  the  abstract ; 
and  at  his  death  designed  setting  those  of  them  he 
thought  able  to  care  for  themselves  free. 

Though  she  dared  not  oppose  him  openly,  his  wife 
thwarted  his  views  and  liberal  measures  whenever  she 
could.  Of  course,  in  such  a  household,  Catharine  had 
little  opportunity  of  seeing  much  of  the  horror  and 
dark  side  of  slavery.  And  seeing  the  slaves  so  gen- 
erally happy  there,  was  what,  more  than  aught  else,  rec- 
onciled her  to  the  thought  of  becoming  a  slaveholder's 
bride.  She  could  not  bear  to  add  to  the  affliction  of 
this  family  by  telling  them  that  her  character  was  sus- 
pected, her  engagement  broken  off,  and  her  peace  of 
mind  wrecked.  So,  conscious  of  her  own  integrity'-,  and 
believing  she  was  in  the  path  of  duty,  she  kept  steadily 
on  her  way,  wondering  how  soon  the  truth  would  be 
made  manifest. 

Lloyd  wrote  frequently  to  his  father,  always  enclosing 
notes  for  the  children,  telling  of  the  distinguished  men 
convened  in  Kichmond;  of  the  measures  and  opinions 
they  were  adopting ;  of  the  doings  of  the  war  and  peace 
conventions  ;  of  the  mustering  and  marching  of  troops, 
and  the  many  exciting  reports  in  circulation ;  but  never 
^word  about  Catharine  or  his  broken  engagement. 


SCHE:\nNG.  —  BROKEN  BONDS.       41 

As  she,  too,  had  Richmond  letters,  no  one  seemed  to 
suspect  any  thing ;  thougli  hers  were  from  Grace  Tre- 
mont,  who,  in  the  bustle  and  whirl  of  city  life,  found 
time  to  keep  Catliarine  posted  regarding  her  own  af- 
fairs, and  th'^sc  of  their  mutual,  acquaintances.  By 
midwinter  the  major  was  a  great  deal  better ;  though, 
the  news  arriving  by  every  mail  kept  him  in  a  contin- 
ual fever  of  excitement. 

^  At  last  a  letter  came  from  Lloyd,  saying  that  he  was 
about  convinced  that  the  South  was  right,  and  justified 
in  quitting  a  Union  that  oppressed  and  trampled  upon 
her  most  sacred  rights  ;  that  he  was  tired  of  waiting 
for  the  slow  but  sure  voice  of  Old  Virginia,  and,  at  the 
earnest  solicitation  of  some  of  her  leaders,  he  had  con- 
cluded to  go  South  to  confer  witli  the  ruling  spirits 
there.  Then,  if  the  government  really  attempted  to 
coerce  them  into  submission,  he  might  conclude  to  join 
them,  and  take  office  under  the  new  confederacy ;  and 
believing,  that,  under  such  circumstances,  a  marringe 
with  a  Northern  lady  would  be  unadvisable,  he  had  con- 
cluded for  that,  and  other  reasons  she  would  under- 
stand, to  cancel  his  late  engagement  with  Miss  Hale, 
and  fulfil  another  made  long  ago,  as  they  all  knew,  with 
Miss  Nellie  Atherton.  They  were  to  be  married  in 
church  the  next  Tuesday ;  and  he  hoped  his  father  and 
all  the  family  would  be  able  to  be  present,  as  they  were 
to  start,  immediately  after  the  ceremony,  for  Charleston, 
South  Carolina, 

Thus  far  the  poor  old  major  got,  reading  this  letter  to 
his  wife,  Catharine,  and  Dr.  Stearnes,  who  had  brought 
it  from  the  office,  when  his  voice  began  to  falter,  his 
hand  to  tremble,  and  his  face  to  blanch  to  a  sudden 
whiteness,  as  he  stood  by  the  parlor-window :  then  he 
4* 


42        THE  EEBEL  GEKEHAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

put  out  his  hands,  clutched  at  the  empty  air,  and  fell 
heavily  to  the  floor. 

The  knowledge  that  his  first-horn  son,  the  pride  and 
hope  of  his  declining  years,  was  ahout  to  turn  traitor  to 
his  country  and  his  betrothed  bride,  was  too  much  for 
the  poor  invalid  to  bear,  and  almost  broke  his  heart. 

By  the  application  of  strong  stimulants,  he  was  re- 
vived, but  could  not  be  reconciled  to  the  unlooked-for 
dispensation. 

Catharine  had  known,  from  Grace's  letters,  that  Nell 
was  trying  her  best  to  win  Lloyd  back  ;  and  yet,  per- 
haps unconsciously,  she  had  treasured  a  hope  of  his 
return  to  her,  and  that  all  would  in  some  way  be  satis- 
factorily explained. 

The  sudden  overthrow  of  this  hope  came  like  a  blow 
to  her ;  and  for  a  moment  her  senses  reeled,  her  head 
swam^  and  she  sat  down  dizzily  in  the  nearest  chair, 
pale  as  marble,  and  almost  glad  that  something,  she 
scarcely  knew  what,  took  the  attention  of  those  present 
from  herself.  Every  one  pitied  her,  and  admired  the 
fortitude  with  which  she  bore  up  under  her  disappoint- 
ment ;  thoudi  it  must  be  confessed  that  Mrs.  Hunter's 
pity  was  mingled  with  joy  at  her  niece's  success  in 
winning  Llo3"d  from  a  nicsalliance.  She  liked  Cath- 
arine in  her  place ;  she  felt  as  if  she  could  hardly  live 
without  her  a  day ;  she  had  always  treated  her  with 
kindness.  Yet  the  feeling  was  very  strongly  impressed 
upon  her  mind,  that  she  belonged  to  a  lower  caste  than 
the  Hunters  and  the  Athertons,  who  were  some  of  the 
oldest  families  in  Virginia. 

The  major  had  had  something  of  this  feeling  at  first, 
until  a  knowledge  of  Catharine's  goodness,  virtue,  aud 
amiability   had  won    a   daughter's  place  in  his  heart. 


SCETEMING. — BROKEN   BONDS.  43 

And  now  he  seemed  to  feel  for  lier,  in  her  desertion  and 
disappointment,  quite  as  much  as  if  she  were  a  daugh- 
ter of  his  own ;  and  all  the  more,  in  that  his  own  son 
was  the  cause  of  her  trouble. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

FAMILY   JAES. THE    EL0PE:3IEXT. 

^g^^^^^OXTEAEY  to  all  expectation,  the  major  was 
^g  frf^  og  up  betimes  the  next  morning,  and  announced 
^a-^^.*^^  his  determination  to  ""O  immediately  to  Hich- 
^da^wc2/^  mond. 

His  lady  feebly  remonstrated,  saying  that  he  was  cer- 
tainly not  well  enough  ;  yet  fearing  only,  that,  in  his 
present  state  of  mind,  he  would  say  or  do  something  to 
break  up  the  match,  or  disgrace  the  family.  She  had  a 
great  many  preparations  to  make  before  leaving,  and 
the  wardrobe  of  herself  and  family  to  prepare  for  the 
great  occasion  ;  and  all  they  wanted  was  to  get  there 
the  evening  before  the  bridal,  she  said.  So,  in  one  way 
and  another,  she  contrived  to  delay  him  until  the  sab- 
bath was  over ;  and  then  they  made  the  journey  to  Eich- 
mond. 

Catharine  did  not  want  to  go  to  Eichmond  at  all, 
and  had  a  great  mind  to  go  home. at  once.  She  did  not 
want  to  see  Lloyd  Hunter.  To  be  near  him,  when 
she  knew  he  was  falsifvinor  his  vows  to  her,  and  sol- 
emnly  plighting  them  to  another,  would  be  very  trying 
to  her  feelings.  But  neither  the  major  nor  his  lady 
would  consent  to  her  going  home  when  the  children 
needed  her  so  much  ;  and  it  was  so  difficult  for  them  to 
get  any  one  at  all  competent  to  fill  her  place. 

44 


FAISIILY  JARS. — THE  ELOPEMENT.  45 

So,  after  a  confidential  interview,  it  was  decided  that 
she  should  remain  at  Hunter  Hills  until  Fridaj^,  when 
Uncle  Nick  was  coming  back  to  look  after  the  rest  of 
the  haf^':?age,  and  servants,  and  then,  return  with  them. 
Before  the  end  of  February,  they  were  all  comfortably 
installed  in  their  elegant  town  mansion  ;  and  Mrs.  Hunter 
was  once  more  in  her  glory.  She  had  alwaj^s  been  noted 
for  her  hospitality;  and  now  she  kept  an  open  house, 
and  spent  most  of  her  time  in  going,  and  receiving  com- 
pany. 

The  major  bore  his  journey  very  well,  but  his  moods 
and  state  of  health  were  variable. 

Sometimes  he  would  see  and  talk  with  every  one; 
dealing  out  his  denunciations  against  secession  and  trea- 
son with  an  unsparing  hand  and  tongue.  Then  again 
be  would  be  confined  to  his  room,  unable  to  sit  up,  and 
yet  chafing  and  worrying  continually  about  the  state  of 
the  country  generally,  and  the  doings  of  the  Convention, 
then  in  session,  of  which  he  was  a  nominal  member. 
When  he  was  able,  he  attended  its  sittings,  and  did 
all  he  could,  by  voice  and  vote,  and  by  public  and  pri- 
vate influence,  to  prevent  the  State  from  going  out  of 
the  Union. 

But  his  wife's  influence  —  and,  in  one  way  and  another, 
it  was  fully  equal  to  his  —  was  all  the  other  way ;  and  she 
did  all  she  could  to  prevent  him  from  influencing  the 
minds  of  her  friends  and  acquaintance.  And  later  still, 
when  the  inauguration  they  had  hoped  to  prevent  was 
consummated,  and  Sumter  was  bombarded,  and  the  new 
President  had  called  for  an  army  to  support  his  tottering 
power,  and  she  knew  from  her  friends  that  the  final 
vote  of  the  Convention  was  about  to  be  taken,  this 
woman  secretly  gave  her  husband  an  opiate,  that  caused 


46        THE  EEBEL  GEXERAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

him  to  sleep  througli  the  terrible  crisis  that  gave  Virginia 
over  to  the  horror  and  devastation  of  a  bloody  civil  war. 

When  the  old  man  woke  to  a  knowledge  that  all  was 
over,  and  that  no  effort  of  his  could  now  prevent  that 
dire  calamity,  his  anguish  and  despair,  though  not 
stormy,  were  terrible. 

Suspecting  the  truth,  and  disgusted  with  the  mean- 
ness and  chicanery  that  he  knew  had  produced  such 
lamentable  results,  he  resolved  at  once  to  retire  to  his 
estates,  leaving  his  giddy  wife  and  family  to  enjoy  town 
life  as  long  as  they  pleased.  So  he  left  the  next  day, 
with  Nick,  his  faithful  servant,  greatly  to  the  pleasure  of 
his  lady.  From  that  hour  she  made  her  house  the  home 
of  all  the  rebel  leaders  in  the  city,  and  especially  of  her 
brother.  Col.  Atherton,  and  Philip,  his  son,  who  had  pre- 
viously boarded  at  a  hotel. 

And  thus  it  was  that  Catherine,  though  disliking  it 
much,  was  brought  into  close  communion  with  the  Ath- 
ertons,  and  had  a  chance  to  see,  and  make  the  acquaint- 
ance of,  those  who  were  afterwards  leaders  in  the  rebel 
armies. 

She  knew  that  both  Nell  and  Lloyd  were  gone;  yet, 
strangely  enough,  no  one,  not  even  ]Major  Hunter,  had 
told  her  how  or  where.  This  was  partly  out  of  regard 
to  her  feelings,  but  much  more  from  the  mortification  of 
their  own  at  the  way  things  had  turned  out.  The  truth 
was,  that,  after  every  arrangement  had  been  made  for 
the  bridal,  which  was  to  be  attended  with  great  splendor. 
Count  Laroi,  Nell's  Parisian  lover,  arrived  in  Pichmond. 
Having  come  over  from  Europe  on  purpose  to  secure  the 
great  Virginia  beauty  and  heiress,  he  took  measures  ac- 
cordingly. 

Finding  how  matters  stood,  he  procured  a  private  in- 


FAMILY  JARS.  —  THE  ELOPEMENT.  47 

terview ;  and,  after  ascertaining  that  Nell  still  fancied 
him,  he  proposed  a  private  marriage,  and  elopement. 
"Wishing  to  gratify  her  fancy,  shame  Lloyd,  punish  him 
for  his  attentions  to  Catharine,  and  at  the  same  time 
make  a  romantic  sensation,  iSTell  concluded  an  elopement 
with  a  live  count  would  be  just  the  thing.  She  knew 
very  well  that  Count  Laroi  had  been  a  suspected  char- 
acter in  Paris,  and  that  neither  father  nor  brother  would 
consent  to  their  union ;  so  she  resolved  to  take  the 
responsibility  into  her  own  hands,  and  do  as  she  liked,  in 
defiance  of  everybody.  So  she  gathered  up  all  she  could 
secure  of  her  own  private  property,  was  secretly  married  to 
Count  Laroi  the  evening  before  that  appointed  for  her 
marriage  with  Lloyd  Hunter,  and  immediately  set  sail 
for  Xew  Orleans. 

She  was  determined  to  be  a  rich  countess,  in  spite  of 
them  all,  she  told  her  friends  in  her  farewell  letter.  Her 
father  and  Philip  were  terribly  shamed  and  offended. 
But  Lloj'd,  though  mortified  by  the  publicity  of  the  affair, 
really  felt  relieved,  because  he  had,  by  this  time,  begun 
to  suspect  the  duplicity  of  her  character.  And  it  was 
because  all  the  connections  were  so  chagrined,  and  had 
forbidden  the  children  and  servants  to  speak  of  it  before 
Catharine,  that  she  failed  to  learn  the  truth. 

Mrs.  Hunter  knew  that  Catherine  was  invaluable  to 
her  in  her  present  position ;  and  now  that  Lloyd  was 
gone,  and  there  was  no  one  of  the  family  to  be  deluded 
by  her  charms,  she  was  very  glad  to  bring  them  into 
notice. 

That  an  Atherton,  with  her  own  blood  and  pride  in 
his  veins,  could  think  of  her  seriously,  was  something 
of  which  she  did  not  dream. 

She  knew  that  she  could  trust  her  to  look  after  hep 


48    THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

children  and  servants,  and  have  everything  managed  to 
[:erfection,  because  they  all  esteemed  and  loved  her. 
And  she  fully  appreciated  the  rare  personal  and  mental 
charms,  that  she  knew  helped  to  make  her  house  so 
attractive  to  the  rebel  officers.  Her  musical  and  conver- 
sational gifts  were  constantly  called  into  play,  in  assisting 
Mrs.  Hunter  in  the  entertainment  of  lier  company ;  and, 
if  she  was  ill  or  absent,  Catharine  must  receive  her 
guests,  and  make  her  excuses.  Catharine  disliked  the 
publicity  of  the  part  she  was  desired  to  act  at  first,  and 
the  notice  she  received  from  the  Confederate  officers. 
But,  forced  into  it  by  circumstances  over  which  she  had 
little  control,  she  learned  at  last  to  appreciate  and  enjoy 
their  society.  Knowing  her  Yankee  proclivities,  some 
of  them  loved  to  draw  her  out  upon  the  political  ques- 
tions of  the  dav,  even  though  she  sometimes  wound  them 
up  and  worsted  them  in  the  argument.  But  she  was 
generally  shy  of  expressing  her  opinions,  knowing  it  could 
do  no  good. 

Among  the  rebel  officers  whom  Catharine  particularly 
attracted  at  this  time,  was,  strangely  enough,  CoL  Ather- 
ton,  the  father  of  Nell  and  Philip,  and  brother  of  Mrs. 
Hunter.  He  had  been  a  widower  for  years;  and,  from 
his  age,  position,  great  wealth,  and  unbounded  family 
pride,  no  one  who  knew  the  man  would  have  suspected 
him  of  such  a  weakness.  He  had  avoided  rather  than 
sought  her  society  at  Hunter  Hills,  after  he  knew  of  her 
engagement ;  but,  now  that  was  broken  off  by  the  intrigues 
of  his  own  family,  he  seemed  anxious  to  cultivate  her 
acquaintance,  and  win  her  confidence.  Distrristing  both 
the  son  and  the  father,  because  she  thought  they  had 
had  something  to  do  with  Lloyd's  desertion,  she  treated 
them  at  first  with  uncommon  coolness  and  reserve. 


FAIMILY  JAES.  —  THE  ELOPEMENT.  49 

When  they  became  domesticated  in  the  family,  she 
found  it  more  impossible  to  do  this  without  attracting 
special  attention.  So,  by  degrees,  as  the  colonel  won 
upon  lier  esteem,  her  reserve  and  haughtiness  wore 
away ;  though  she  could  never  quite  forget  certain  sus- 
picions of  Philip's  conduct  in  their  earlier  years. 

Both  the  Colonel  and  Philip  had  daily  military  duties 
to  attend  to,  yet  managed  to  spend  some  part  of  each 
day  or  evening  at  home  ;  and,  though  neither  suspected 
the  other  of  ulterior  motives,  they  generally  managed, 
not  only  to  avoid  each  other,  but  also  Mrs.  Hunter, 
whose  hours  for  her  siesta,  dressing,  and  calls  were  the 
ones  selected  for  being  at  home  with  Catharine  and  the 
children,  who  were,  of  course,  always  uncertain  com- 
panions. 

Catharine  noticed  this,  but  never  dreamed  that  she 
had  aroused  in  both  some  of  the  strongest  passions  of 
the  soul.  She  knew  something  of  the  lofty  pride  of  the 
Atherton  family,  and  sometimes  wondered  why  they 
would  condescend  to  talk  to  a  Yankee  governess,  and 
labor  so  hard  as  they  did  to  convert  her  to  their  own 
views  and  opinions. 

Both  admired  her  beauty,  though  every  one  did  not 
call  her  beautiful.  But  there  was  something  in  her 
pure  and  elevated  sentiments,  in  her  lofty  patriotism, 
in  the  clear,  decided,  yet  musical  tones  of  her  voice; 
besides  the  nameless  charm  always  thrown  around  a 
cultivated  intellect  and  polished  manners,  that  singularly 
fascinated  both,  even  though  they  could  not  respond  to 
her  sentiments,  or  feel  that  national  patriotism  which 
inspired  her  true  and  loyal  heart. 

Philip  had  admired  Catharine  more  than  any  one  else 
in  early  life,  and  was  provoked  by  her  preference  of 


50    THE  REBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

Lloyd  to  himself;  yet  he  had  no  serious  intentions  re- 
garding her  then.  His  greatest  ambition  then  was  to 
win  Grace  Tremont  and  her  large  fortune ;  but  Grace 
had  rejected  him  before  her  departure  from  the  city,  for 
his  avowed  secession  sentiments.  This  rebuff  rankled 
deeply  in  his  vengeful  heart;  though,  it  left  him  more 
at  liberty  to  follow  out  his  own  impulses  than  he  had 
been  for  years. 

But  Philip  worshipped  wealth  and  position ;  and 
Catharine's  want  of  both  made  him  hesitate  how  to  act. 
He  knew  in  his  own  heart  that  he  was  unworthy  of 
her ;  yet  he  felt  as  if  he  would  be  a  better  man  if  he 
could  marry  her,  and  make  up  as  well  as  he  could  for 
the  wrong  he  had  done  her. 

That  he  had  schemed  and  lied  her  out  of  one  husband, 
did  not  worry  him  much,  however,  so  long  as  she  did 
not  know  or  suspect  the  truth.  But  it  did  trouble  him 
that  she  should  always  express  such  decidedly  religious, 
moral,  and  thoroughly  loyal  sentiments ;  that  she  met 
every  attempt  at  freedom  or  familiarity  with  a  dignity 
befitting  an  empress  ;  and  that  she  had  never,  by  word, 
look,  or  tone,  seemed  to  be  seeking  his  favor,  or  given 
him  the  least  shadow  of  encouragement.  Yet  he  could 
not  believe  that  she,  a  portionless  Northern  girl,  would 
refuse,  if  he  once  brought  his  pride  down  enough  to  ask 
her,  to  marry  him,  —  which  as  yet  he  did  not  intend  to 
do. 

Catharine  knew  that  there  was  great  excitement 
among  the  Southern  people.  She  knew  that  large 
bodies  of  troops  were  gathering  near  Kichmond,  and  all 
through  the  Southern  country.  She  heard  a  great  deal 
said  against  the  Federal  government  andXorthern  people 
that  irritated  and  pained  her ;  and  she  sometimes  freely 


rA]SriLY  JARS.  —  THE  ELOPEMENT.  51 

expressed  her  own  opinions.  Yet,  like  almost  every  one 
else,  she  believed  those  deluded,  hot-headed  Southerners 
were  but  blowing  off  steam,  like  a  locomotive,  to  frighten 
the  North  to  terms,  and  that  the  rebellion  would  not 
amount  to  much  after  all.  And  there  is  little  doubt 
that  most  of  the  leaders  in  the  movement  were  of  about 
the  same  opinion,  and  little  dreamed  of  the  storm  of 
woe  and  blood  they  were  evoking  when  they  raised  their 
rebellious  hands  against  the  government. 

Believing  thus,  and  not  at  all  alarmed  for  her  own 
safet}'-,  Catharine  resolved  to  finish  her  engagement,  in 
spite  of  the  threatening  elements  around  her,  and  then 
set  out  for  home. 

The  bombardment  of  Fort  Sumter,  the  investiture 
of  Pickens,  and  the  President's  call  for  a  large  army, 
roused  her  a  little  from  her  dream,  of  security.  But 
somehow  the  boasting  tone  of  the  public  prints,  and 
conversation  of  those  around  her,  tended  to  allay,  rather 
than  to  excite,  her  fears,  and  induced  her  to  wait  until 
the  coast  was  blockaded,  and  the  country  filled  with 
troops  in  every  direction. 

June  came  at  last.  She  had  promised  to  stay  no 
longer  than  this;  so,  in  spite  of  the  children's  tears, 
Mrs.  Hunter's  urgent  entreaties,  and  the  distracted  state 
of  the  country,  she  decided  to  go  home  at  once. 

It  was  hard  to  part  with  those  who  loved  her,  and 
were  so  kind  to  her;  but  she  had  come  to  believe  that 
the  strife  might  be  a  long  and  bloody  one.  Duty  to 
her  immediate  friends,  her  country,  and  her  own  loyal 
opinions  urged  her  to  leave  the  ranks  of  her  country's 
mortal  foes  before  it  was  too  late. 

The  day  before  her  intended  departure,  while  Mrs. 
Hunter  was  out  for  a  call,  Catharine  was  surprised  by 


52    THE  EEBEL  GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

fche  arrival  of  Mr.  Garland,  a  near  neighbor  of  Major 
Hunter,  whom  she  had  known  and  highly  esteemed  at 
Hunter  Hills. 

He  had  come  to  inform  them  that  the  major  had  taken 
a  heavy  cold  on  his  way  home,  which  had  produced  a 
fever  and  inflammation  of  the  lungs,  and  that  he  had 
now  a  racking  cough,  and  every  symptom  of  a  quick 
consumption.  He  had  no  one  hut  slaves  to  attend  him ; 
believed  it  was  his  last  illness,  and  was  very  anxious  to 
see  his  wife  and  children  before  his  departure.  If  his 
wife  refused  to  come,  as  he  feared  she  might,  he  begged 
Catharine,  whom  he  regarded  as  a  daughter,  to  come  to 
him  with  his  younger  children. 

Catharine  was  deeply  affected  by  this  news,  for  she 
loved  the  desolate  old  man  as  a  father.  As  it  was 
but  a  dozen  miles  out  of  her  way,  she  readily  promised 
to  accompany  Mr.  Garland  the  next  morning. 

When  Mrs.  Hunter  arrived,  Catharine  left  the  room ; 
but  she  knew  afterwards  that  she  and  Mr.  Garland  had 
a  very  exciting  interview.  She  was  wilful  and  unrea- 
sonable :  she  would  not  believe  in  the  reports  of  her  hus- 
band's danger.  She  knew  that  he  had  sent  for  them  to 
get  her  away  from  Eichmond,  and  prevent  her  using 
her  wealth  and  influence,  as  she  designed,  in  the  cause  of 
the  rebellion. 

And  for  that  reason  she  utterly  refused  to  return  to 
Hunter  Hills,  or  let  her  children  go  with  Catharine, 
with  whom  she  was  vexed  because  she  was  going  to 
leave  her.  Mr.  Garland  tried  to  reason  the  case ;  but, 
finding  it  only  angered  her,  he  desisted,  and  left  the 
bouse. 

But  there  was,  unfortunately,  a  listener  to  this  inter- 
view, who  was  deeply  affected  by  it,  and  who  made  big 


FA^MTLY  JAES.  —  THE   ELOPEMENT.  53 

presence  known  by  his  bitter  sobs  as  soon  as  it  was 
over.  This  was  Walter,  Mrs.  Hunter's  little  son,  wlio 
happened  to  be  sitting  in  a  window-seat,  and  thus  be- 
came an  unnoticed  observer  of  all  that  transpired. 

This  boy,  who  w^as  ten  years  old,  and  the  youngest 
and  pet  of  the  flock,  almost  worshipped  his  old  father. 
He  had  wondered,  and  questioned  and  worried  liis 
mother  continually  regarding  his  absence,  and  was  now 
wounded  in  his  tenderest  feelings  to  have  the  truth 
made  known  to  him  in  such  a  vfny. 

"  My  father  ill,  —  dying !  and  the  mother  I  love  so 
bitter  against  him  for  such  a  cause  ! "  he  exclaimed,  as 
he  threw  himself  at  her  feet,  and  besought  her  to  take 
him  to  his  poor  father. 

Not  without  reason,  Mrs.  Hunter  was  extremely  proud 
of  Jennie  and  Fannie,  her  beautiful  and  amiable  daugh- 
ters ;  but  this  boy  she  almost  worshipped,  he  was  so 
spirited,  handsome,  and  talented,  her  youngest-born, 
and  her  only  son.  But  she  was  angrj^  and  unreasona- 
ble at  that  moment ;  so  she  rebuked  him  sharply  for  his 
eavesdropping,  and  sent  him  from  the  room  without  lis- 
tening to  his  exonerating  explanations. 

Alas !  she  little  dreamed  of  all  the  consequences  to 
him,  to  herself,  to  Catharine,  and  all  with  wdiom  she  was 
connected,  that  would  result  from  that  thoughtless  act. 

Col.  Atherton  had  been  away  from  home  for  a  week, 
and  of  course  knew  nothing  of  Catharine's  early  depar- 
ture. But  Philip  did  know  of  it;  and  he  grew  more 
restless,  moody,  and  taciturn  every  day.  Just  before 
sunset  the  last  evening  of  her  sta}'',  he  drove  up  in  an 
open  buggy;  and,  as  the  family  were  just  about  getting 
into  the  carriage  for  a  drive,  he  asked  Catharine  to  rida 
with  him. 

5* 


54        THE  REBEL   GENERAl's  LOYAL  EEmE. 

Prom  one  excuse  and  another,  she  had  alwa^^s  refused 
before ;  but  now,  encouraged  b}''  jMrs.  Hunter,  as  it  was 
her  last  day  with  them,  she  accepted  the  invitation. 

It  was  a  delicious  June  evening,^  and  the  streets  were 
thronged  with  people,  —  on  foot,  on  horseback,  and  in 
carriages;  many  of  them  richly  dressed,  or  in  glittering 
uniforms, — so  suggestive  of  coming  events, — seem- 
ingly so  far  off,  and  yet,  alas,  liow  near ! 

Philip,  too,  was  in  the  stjrlish  uniform  of  a  staff- 
officer  ;  and  he  looked  so  handsome  and  manly,  with  his 
fine  form,  jetty  hair  and  eyes,  and  clear-cut  features, 
that  Catharine  could  not  help  admiring  him,  as  he  sat 
beside  her,  even  though  she  doubted  his  principles,  sus- 
pected his  past  conduct,  and  felt  as  if  it  were  wrong  for 
her  to  have  any  thing  to  do  with  him. 

The  sun  went  down  in  a  sea  of  golden  glory,  tingeing 
the  church-spires,  and  tops  of  the  loftiest  buildings,  with 
a  glittering  halo ;  and  the  sweetest  perfumes  were 
w^afted  upon  every  breeze,  from  the  thousands  of  beauti- 
ful flowers  that  were  blooming  all  around  them.  And 
the  bands,  plaj^ng  martial  airs  in  the  distance,  con- 
tributed, with  all  other  pleasing  sights  and  sounds,  to 
lull  the  senses  into  a  happy  forgetful ness  of  the  past, 
and  a  serene  enjoyment  of  the  beauty  and  harmony  all 
around  them.  They  rode  on  for  some  time  in  perfect 
silence,  —  she  looking  and  listening,  yet  never  dream- 
ing of  the  struggle  going  on  in  his  bosom ;  he  oblivious 
of  outward  objects,  yet  keenly  sensitive  to  the  strife 
within,  and  trying  in  vain  to  make  up  his  mind  how  to 
act. 

lie  had  never  fully  realized,  till  they  were  about  to 
part,  how  dear  Catharine  had  become  to  him,  how 
necessary  ske  was  to  his  happiness.     But,   though  pas- 


FAMILY  Jx\ES.  —  THE  ELOPEMENT.  55 

sioii  clamored,  pride  still  held  liiiu  in  chains ;  and  he 
could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  speak  the  words  that,  he 
believed,  would  make  her  his  own  forever.  That  she 
would  refuse  to  wed  one  of  his  high  birth,  manly  beauty, 
and  large  fortune,  he  could  not  believe.  But  could  he, 
with  all  those  advantages, — he,  who  knew  he  could 
choose  from  some  of  the  greatest  beauties  and  fortunes 
in  tlie  realm,  —  wed  a  portionless  Northern  bride,  who 
mocked  at  slavery,.despised  his  opinions,  and,  more  than 
all,  loved  another  better  than  himself?  No:  he  could 
not  bow  down  his  pride  to  that,  or  wed  one  whom 
he  thought  Nell  and  his  proud  father  would  despise. 

And  yet  how  he  loved  her  !  How  could  he  bear  to 
part  with  her.  He  drove  out  among  the  green  fields, 
lowing  kine,  and  fine  country  residences,  where  every 
thing  breathed  of  peace  ;  and  for  some  time  Catharine 
did  not  observe  his  unusual  taciturnity. 

"  Catharine,"  he  said  at  last  in  a  tone  not  unmingled 
with  emotion,  "  why  will  you  leave  us  ?  Will  no 
Southern  heart  or  home  content  vou  Ioniser?" 

"  I  have  no  claim  upon  any  of  them ;  and  it  is  time 
the  weary,  wandering  bird  should  seek  its  parent-nest," 
said  she,  smiling. 

"  You  have  long  been  weaned  from  that,  Catharine, 
and,  if  you  will  only  stay  with  us,  may  one  day  have  a 
warm  nest  of  your  own;"  and  he  flashed  upon  her  a 
glance  of  peculiar  meaning. 

"  I  do  not  want  one.  I  feel  myself  more  of  an  alien 
among  your  people  every  day.  Our  thoughts  and  views 
and  feelings  are  of  a  different  color;  and  among  you  I 
should  never  feel  perfectly  at  home." 

'•  You  did  not  tell  Lloj^d  Hunter  so,"  said  he  sourly. 

"  How  know  you  what  I  told  Lloyd  Hunter?"  and 
the  telltale  blood  surged  over  Catharine's  face. 


56        THE  EEBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRmE. 

"I  have  heard  that  you  were  engaged  to  him  at  one 
time." 

"Perhaps  you  know  how  I  was  disengaged?  " 

"No  :  I  do  not.     But  I  would  really  like  to  know." 

"  When  you  see  him,  you  can  ask." 

"I  would  not  ask  him  now  for  a  kingdom;  nor  do  1 
care,  if  you  will  only  forget  him,  and  think  of  me." 

"  I  shall  never  forget  him  or  the  lesson  I  have  learned 
through  him.  I  shall  treasure  it  as  a  warning  through 
life." 

"  Throw  it  to  the  winds.  He  is  a  moody,  critical, 
cold-hearted  fellow,  who  is  never  of  the  same  mind  long 
at  a  time.     Whoever  has  him  is  to  be  pitied." 

"I  do  not  think  so,"  said  Catharine  mournfully.  "I 
still  believe  him  to  be  one  of  God's  and  Nature's  noble- 
men,—  high-principled,  pure,  and  true,  yet  not  above  be- 
ing deceived  and  wronged." 

"  How  can  you  think  so  highly  of  one  who  proved 
himself  to  be  so  inconstant  and  changeable?"  he  said 
with  a  guilty,  conscious  flush. 

"  I  would  be  just  to  otliers  whether  they  are  so  to  me 
or  not,  especially  when  I  believe  they  mean  to  be.  That 
higher  Power  who  shapes  our  destinies  probably  sees 
that  it  is  not  best  for  me  to  stay  here,  with  all  my 
Northern  prejudices,  through  a  bloody  war;  so  he  orders 
it  otherwise." 

"  I  do  not  believe  that ;  yet  I  do  think  you  will  be  in 
great  danger  to  go  to  the  North  alone  and  unprotected 
at  the  present  time.  Por  the  country  between  here  and 
Washington  is  already  alive  with  armed  men,  some  of 
them  villains  of  the  deepest  dye,  gathered  from  among 
the  uncivilized  borderers  of  the  frontiers,  wdio  are  ready 
to  stop  trainS;^  waj^lay  travellers,  or  commit  any  other 
lawless  deed  for  the  sake  of  plunder." 


FAMILY  JARS. — THE  ELOPEMENT.  57 

"  Then  the  sooner  I  get  out  of  it  the  better," 

"No,  Catharine:  you  had  better  stay  in  Richmond, 
where  there  are  those  who  will  guard  you  from  all  dan- 
ger, —  those  who  love  you  well  enough  to  lay  down 
their  lives  for  you." 

"  That  is  all  moonshine,  Philip ;  though,  as  regards 
the  danger,  there  may  be  truth  in  what  you  say." 

"Believe  me,  it  is  not  all  moonshine,  Catharine. 
You  do  not  realize  your  power  over  human  hearts." 

"  You  and  I  have  heard  a  great  many  thrilling  tales 
of  deathless  affection,  Philip ;  but  I,  at  least,  have  got 
past  believing  them,"  said  Catharine,  with  a  scornful 
curve  to  her  expressive  lip. 

"Don't  you  believe  that  J  love  you  thus,  dear  Catha- 
rine ?  " 

"No,"  she  quickly  responded,  blushing,  and  drawing 
herself  up  with  a  haughty  dignity. 

"But  I  do  most  truly  and  ferventl}'-,"  he  said,  almost 
in  spite  of  himself;  "and  I  would  do  almost  any  thing 
to  win  a  return  !  "  His  every  look  and  tone  testified  to 
his  sincerity. 

"  You  surprise  and  pain  me  by  such  doubtful  profes- 
sions, Philip.  Must  I  believe  they  are  such  as  you 
make  to  every  lady  of  your  acquaintance  ?  " 

"jSTo,  indeed!  But  why  should  you  doubt?"  he 
asked,  with  an  angry  flush,  and  keen,  questioning 
glance. 

"  Because  I  had  supposed  you  all  this  time  engaged 
to  my  friend,  Grace  Tremont." 

"  Grace  Tremont  indeed  !  "  and  Philip's  face  grew 
dark  with  rage  at  the  thought  of  the  indignity  of  her 
refusal.  "  I  was  once  engaged  to  Grace  Tremont :  I 
am  not  now.     I  would  not  marry  her  now,  if  she  had 


58        THE  BEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

the  wealth  of  the  Indies  at  her  disposal,  and  knelt  to  me 
for  the  favor.'-' 

"  You  surprise  me  :  I  thought  you  were  the  best  of 
friends." 

"  TVe  were  once  :  now  we  are  bitter  enemies.  But, 
Catharine,  I  solemnly  swear  to  you,  that  I  never,  never 
loved  Grace  Tremont  as  I  now  love  you.  I  admired 
you  more  than  all  others  in  our  earlier  years ;  and,  had 
you  favored  me,  I  believe  I  should  have  loved  and  been 
more  worthy  of  you  than  I  am  to-day.  But,  such  as  I 
am,  I  feel  for  you  now  a  stronger  love  and  a  wilder  wor- 
ship. And  if,  for  my  sake,  you  would  stay  in  the  Old 
Dominion,  forget  the  past,  and  love  me  as  well  as  you 
could,  I  would  be  everlastingly  grateful,  and  allow  you 
to  mould  me  into  your  highest  ideas  of  perfection  and 
virtue." 

"  Could  I  make  of  you  a  good  Christian,  and  a  patriotic 
Union  man  ?  "  said  Catliarine,  vrho  had  little  faith  in 
his  rhapsodies,  and  could  not  help  putting  a  little  sar- 
casm into  her  tones  and  words. 

"  I  don't  know  but  your  love  might  Christianize  me, 
Catharine.  I  believe  myself  as  patriotic  as  any  man  in 
the  nation.  I  would  lay  down  my  life  for  Old  Virginia, 
God  bless  her  !  And  no  one  is  more  strongly  in  favor 
of  Union,  —  a  union  with  you,  dear  Catharine,  than 
myself,"  said  he,  smiling. 

'•  You  know  that  is  not  what  I  mean,  Philip,"  said 
she  seriously,  '^  as  well  as  you  know  that  you  are  sol- 
emnly pledged  to  do  all  in  your  power  to  divide  this  glo- 
rious Union,  and  give  the  death-blow  to  our  national 
Ufe." 

*'I  do  not  deny  it.  Yet  did  I  not  hear  you  say  this 
afternoon,  that  difference  of  political  opinion  ought  never 
to  divide  true  friends  ?  " 


FAMILY  JAES.  —  THE  ELOPEMENT.  59 

''Nor  had  it,  wlien,  like  your  uncle  and  annt,  to 
whom  I  referred,  they  have  sworn  before  God  to  love  and 
to  cherish  each  other  till  death.  This  we  have  not  done; 
nor  would  I  now,  under  any  circumstances  I  can  think 
of,  to  any  man,  love  him  as  I  might,  whom  I  believed  to 
be  an  eneni}'  to  my  country." 

'•  And  you  regard  me  as  one :  do  you  ?  '*  he  eagerly 
questioned. 

"  I  regard  every  man  as  one  who  takes  up  arms 
against  our  lawful  government,  and  schemes  and  plots 
to  overthrow  it." 

"  You  say  this  deliberately,  when  you  know  that  I  ac- 
knov.-ledge  no  allegiance,  except  to  my  native  State,  and 
shall  do  all  I  can  to  uphold  her  in  her  right  of  sover- 
eignty." 

'- 1  do,  Philip.  And  yet  I  would  give  all  I  have  to  be 
able  to  convince  you,  and  all  other  misguided  Southern- 
ers, of  the  fallacy  of  a  doctrine  tliat  is  about  to  plunge 
this  country  into  a  horrid  civil  war,  which,  if  it  does 
come,  will  drench  the  land  in  blood.  It  may  be  yours 
—  or  Theodore's." 

"Don't  talk  of  that:  it  makes  me  shiver.  Let  us 
Ijope  it  w^ill  not  come  to  so  deadl}^  an  issue." 

"  God  grant  it !  But  it  must  be  getting  late.  How 
far  are  we  from  the  city  ?  " 

"  Some  six  or  eight  miles  perhaps." 

"  Six  or  eight  miles  !  Why,  it  will  be  ten  o'clock  be- 
fore we  get  home  !     What  will  Mrs.  Hunter  say  ?  '^ 

"I  don't  care.  But,  Catharine,  do  you  know  how 
strongly  I  am  tempted  to  run  away  with  you,  and  hide 
you  somewhere,  to  prevent  your  going  home?"  he  said, 
as  he  wheeled  around  in  the  homeward  direction. 

"  You  would  not  do  so  mean  a  thing  as  that." 


60        THE  KEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"I  don't  know  but  I  would:  the  thought  of  parting 
with  you  is  not  a  pleasant  one.  Wliy  won't  you  show 
me  some  present  favor,  or  at  least  give  me  a  promise 
to  come  ba<;k  to  Hiclimond,  after  making  the  major  a 
visit  ?  " 

"]S"o  promise  between  a  secessionist  and  a  Yankee 
will  be  good  for  any  thing,  if  tliis  war  goes  on." 

"Just  make  me  one,  and  see." 

"No,  Philip.  It  is  too  serious  a  subject  to  trifle  with. 
I  am  grateful  for  3'our  good  opinion,  and  the  pleasure 
your  society  has  afforded  me  ;  though  I  did  not  dream 
you  had  any  serious  object  in  seeking  mine." 

"Nor  had  I,  till  you  bewitched  my  senses,  and  wiled 
my  heart  away  from  me." 

"Pretty  Bess  Hamilton  can  wile  it  back  again." 

"  Bess  Hamilton  is  a  pretty  coquette,  but  less  than 
nothiuGT  to  me." 

"  As  I  shall  be,  after  a  week's  absence." 

"Catharine,  why  is  it  that  you  trifle  with  my  affec- 
tion, and  have  so  little  regard  for  my  deepest  and  ten- 
derest  feelings?"  he  passionately  exclaimed. 

"Forgive  me  if  I  have  wronged  you,  Philip,  or  under- 
valued your  affection.  I  do  not  mean  to  trifle  with  any 
man's  feelings.     I  was  simply  trying  to  do  right." 

"  How,  pray,  and  wherefore  ?  " 

"Philip,"  she  said,  blushing,  liesitating,  and  smiling, 
"do  you  not  know  that  you  are  a  very  handsome,  ^^ol- 
ished,  and  fascinating  young  gentleman  ;  and  that,  if  one 
liad  no  previous  prejDossessions,  it  would  be  just  the  easi- 
est thing  in  the  world  to  love  you  ?  " 

"  Why  don't  you  then  ?  "  said  he  eagerly. 

"  You  do  not  need  to  be  told,  Philip.  There  are  some 
who  can  never  love  but  one.     But  would  you  be  satisfied 


FA3irLY  JARS.  —  THE  ELOPEMENT.  61 

to  have  a  poor,  dependent,  but  ambitious  girl  pretend 
to  an  affection  she  did  not  feel,  for  the  sake  of  winning 
your  name,  position,  and  large  fortune  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not." 

"Say  no  more  then.  Do  not  add  to  my  temptations, 
but  let  us  part  in  friendsliip." 

Pie  took  the  hand  she  offered,  pressed  it  passionately 
to  his  lips,  then  threw  it  from  him  ;  and  little  more  was 
said  during  the  remainder  of  the  ride.  They  got  home 
at  last ;  but,  as  soon  as  they  entered  the  house,  a  new 
trouble  presented  itself 

Little  Walter  was  gone,  — no  one  knew  what  had  be- 
come of  him  ;  and  Mrs.  Hunter  had  been  in  paroxysms 
of  fear,  lest  some  evil  liad  befallen  her  beautiful  boy. 
A  little  note  was  found  at  last  upon  her  dressing-table, 
printed  with  a  pen,  telling  her  that  he  had  taken  the 
money  given  him  for  a  Christmas  present  to  buy  a 
ticket,  and  was  going  on  the  cars  to  see  his  dear  father. 
He  hoped  she  would  forgive,  and  take  no  trouble  about 
him,  and  come  with  the  girls  very  soon. 

When  this  note  was  found,  Mrs.  Hunter's  fear  turned 
to  anger ;  and  she  told  Catharine  to  "  send  the  little  ras- 
cal home  just  as  soon  as  she  got  to  Hunter  Hills." 

There  were  a  good  many  last  things  to  do,  a  good 
many  last  words  to  be  spoken;  and  it  was  very  late  be- 
fore they  retired  to  rest. 

Catharine's  mind  was  so  troubled  about  her  affair  with 
Philip,  Walter's  curious  escapade,  and  the  dread  pres- 
cience of  coming  events,  that  she  did  not  sleep  at  all 
this  last  night  of  her  stay  in  Richmond. 

6 


CHAPTEE  ly. 

THE  REBEL  GENERAL. THE  PROPOSAL. 

\R.  GAEL  AND  called  for  Catharine  quite 
early  the  next  morning,  as  he  had  promised; 
but  it  was  onl}^  to  bring  his  excuses. 

He  had  found  it  necessary  to  remain  a 
few  days  longer  in  town.  If  she  did  not  like  to  wait,  he 
would  take  her  to  the  cars,  and  place  her  under  the  care 
of  a  good  and  true  friend  of  liis,  who  was  going  out  to 
Hunter  Hills  to  make  the  major  a  visit. 

Catharine  was  all  read}',  and  dressed  for  tlie  journey. 
She  was  deeply  anxious  to  go  home  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  did  not  like  to  wait  longer.  So,  tearfully  kissing 
and  bidding  the  family  and  servants  "Good-by,'^  she 
entered  the  carriage,  and  was  driven  to  the  depot. 

They  were  just  in  time.  Mr.  Garland  procured  her  a 
ticket,  and  checks  for  her  baggage,  found  her  a  conve- 
nient seat ;  and  she  was  just  thanking  him  for  all  his  kind- 
ness when  the  whistle  sounded.  He  turned  around 
quickly,  presented  his  friend,  CoL  Atherton,  who  came 
smilingly  up  at  that  moment,  bade  her  '^  Good-morning,'' 
and  immediately  left  the  train. 

Catharine  was  confounded.  She  had  not  dreamed  of 
her  escort  being  any  one  she  knew,  —  least  of  all  the 
father  of  Philip  Atherton,  who,  though  she  knew  it  not, 

62 


THE  EEBEL   GENERAL. — THE  PROPOSAL.      G3 

had  contrived  business  to  detain  Mr.  Garland  in  Rich- 
mond, that  he  might  have  the  pleasure  of  her  company 
to  Hunter  Hills. 

He  was  going  out,  it  was  true,  to  make  one  more  ef- 
fort to  win  over  the  old  major  to  the  secession  cause  ; 
though  but  for  his  ''meeting  with  Mr.  Garland,  and 
knowledge  of  her  proposed  journey,  he  would  have 
waited  a  few  days  longer.  He  did  not  suffer  this  to  be 
seen,  however;  and  she  had  not  the  least  suspicion  of 
his  object,  when,  with  a  polite  bow  and  "  By  your 
leave,''  he  took  the  vacant  seat  beside  her. 

Of  course  there  could  be  no  refusal  of  the  companion- 
ship of  one  of  whose  escort  any  lady  in  Kichmond  would 
have  been  proud.  So  she  blushed,  bowed  a  silent  acqui- 
escence, and  rather  unquietly  settled  down  beside  him. 
Though  he  had  a  son  of  twenty-five,  Col.  Atherton 
was  at  this  time,  four  years  less  than  fifty.  Though  not 
a  handsome  man,  he  was  vet  so  distinsjuished  in  his 
personal  appearance,  that  you  would  instantly  have 
selected  him,  out  of  a  hundred  promiscuously-gathered 
men,  as  the  superior  in  ability  to  nearly  every  one.  He 
was  full  six  feet  high,  with  a  form  of  jDerfect  symmetry, 
dark,  unsilvered  hair,  a  high,  broad  brow,  prominent 
Roman  nose,  and  an  eye  at  once  black,  penetrating,  and 
magnetic.  His  features  were  marked,  decided,  and  stern 
in  repose;  yet  when  he  smiled,  as  he  did  rarelj^,  they 
lighted  up  with  a. most  genial  and  magical  glow.  Edu- 
cated, talented,  and  accomplished  in  all  the  arts  and 
habits  of  good  society,  he  was  in  fact  as  fine  a  specimen 
of  a  polished  Southern  gentleman  as  one  would  often 
find. 

He  had  been  quite  distinguished  as  a  successful  and 
courageous  officer    in  the  war   with  Mexico.     Wise  in 


64    THE  REBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

council,  and  brave  in  the  field,  he  was  one  who  was  well 
calculated  to  be  a  leader  of  men.  And,  though  you  may 
not  find  his  name  in  the  list  of  Confederate  officers,  you 
may  be  sure  that  the  man  was  there.  He  was  indeed 
a  man  whose  will  was  generally  the  law  to  those  around 
him,  and  one,  too,  who  might  at  times  be  unscrupulous 
as  to  the  means  to  mahe  that  will  a  law,  though  this  did 
not  often  appear  upon  the  surface  of  his  character. 

Erom  the  first  hour  of  their  acquaintance,  Catharine 
had  been  conscious  of  a  strange  species  of  fascination  in 
this  man's  society,  —  far  more  indeed  than  in  that  of 
his  polished  and  handsome  son.  She  felt  and  acknowl- 
edged his  superior  ability,  dignity,  and  strength  of  char- 
acter. His  voice  was  singularly  deep-toned  yet  melodious. 
He  was  specious,  eloquent,  and  highly  gifted  in  conver- 
sation. She  had  often  found  herself  listening  spell-bound 
to  his  descriptions  of  thrilling  scenes  in  the  Mexican 
war,  as  well  as  of  distinguished  persons  and  places  in 
foreign  lands.  And  when  he  had  talked  to  her  of  slav- 
ery and  secession,  and  the  rights  and  wrongs  of  the 
South,  with  the  justice  of  her  demands  upon  the  nation, 
and  of  the  grasping,  over-reaching  spirit  of  our  aSTorthern 
people,  he  would  succeed  so  well  in  making  ''  the  worse 
appear  the  better  reason,"  that  she  would  be  almost  con- 
vinced of  the  truth  of  his  side  of  the  argument,  and  ready, 
in  spirit,  to  yield  to  all  the  South  demanded.  In  his  pres- 
ence, her  spirit  bowed  to  his  superior  will,  and  strength 
of  intellect.  His  deep,  melodious  tones  enchained  her 
attention  in  a  room  where  the  sound  of  many  voices 
mingled.  His  eye  held  and  attracted  hers  by  a  species 
of  magnetism,  which  she  felt,  but  for  which  she  could 
give  no  reason.  Did  she  love  him  then,  this  stern, 
domineering,  unscrupulous  man  of  more  than  twice  her 


THE  EEBEL  GENERAL.  —  THE  PROPOSAL.  (j5 

own  age  ?  Far  from  it.  She  was  uneasy  in  his  presence, 
and  though  conscious  of  a  strong  attraction  towards  him, 
yet  felt  a  stronger  and  more  irresistible  one  to  got 
out  of  the  danger  as  soon  as  possible.  And  now,  when 
he  sat  down  beside  her,  —  nearer  than  he  had  ever  been  in 
her  life  before,  —  a  strange  thrill  that  was  almost  a  shud- 
der crept  through  her  frame  ;  and  a  sudden  but  intangible 
fear,  like  a  warning  shadow,  swept  across  her  mental 
sky.  It  was  dispelled  the  next  moment,  however,  by 
the  sound  of  his  voice,  as  he  said,  with  one  of  his  rarest 
smiles  and  most  winning  tones,  — 

^'  I  hardly  know  whether  you  accepted  or  rejected  my 
escort,  Miss  Hale,  the  cars  started  so  suddenly." 

"  Oh !  I  would  like  it,  if  it  is  not  too  much  trouble  to 
you,  sir,"  she  returne(^  with  a  bright  blush  and  a  slight 
tremor  in  her  tones ;  ''  though  I  am  not  afraid  to  go 
alone." 

"  It  is  no  trouble,  but  really  a  positive  pleasure  to  me 
to  have  such  society  as  yours  to  beguile  the  monotony 
of  the  ride  to  Hunter  Hills." 

"  To  judge  by  what  I  see  around  me,  you  might  have 
that  which  would  far  better  suit  your  taste,"  said  Cath- 
arine ;  for  she  began  to  observe  that  the  train  was  crowded 
to  its  utmost  capacity  by  soldiers,  and  officers  in  full 
uniform,  some  of  whom  she  knew,  and  that  there  were 
very  few  ladies  on  the  train. 

"  A  thing  is  precious  just  in  proportion  to  its  scar- 
city," said  the  colonel,  smiling  as  he  read  her  thought. 
"  I  presume  there  are  few  gentlemen  present  who  do 
not  envy  me  the  pleasure  that  no  temptation  would  in- 
duce me  to  resign  to  them." 

"  Grallant  speeches  are  a  part  of  a  soldier's  tactics,  I 


6Q        THE  EEBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

believe,"  said  she,  smiling ;  "  and  ladies  are  wise  who 
do  not  attach  too  much  meanins:  to  them." 

"  Soldiers  have  eyes  and  ears  and  hearts,  too.  Miss 
Hale.  And  sometimes  —  as  in  the  present  instance  — 
they  mean  more  than  their  words  imply,"  he  said  with  a 
look  so  admiring  and  significant  as  to  startle  and  set 
her  to  thinking. 

Could  it  he  possible  that  this  stern  man,  old  enough 
to  be  her  father,  could  have  a  serious  thought  of  her,  a 
poor  Yankee  governess,  and  abolitionist  at  that  ?  Or 
could  it  be  that  Philip  had  told  him  of  his  partiality, 
and  begged  his  intercession  with  her  in  his  behalf.  He 
would  not  get  it  if  he  had :  she  felt  sure  of  that.  And 
she  was  glad  that  no  love  for  Philip  bowed  her  own 
honest  pride  down  to  the  feet  of  so  haughty  a  race.  If 
Col.  Atherton  knew  any  thing  about  her  aftair  with 
Philip,  he  was  glad,  no  doubt,  to  assist  in  getting  her 
out  of  the  country. 

While  she  sat  thinking  thus,  with  her  ej'es  cast  down, 
the  colonel  was  seriously  regarding  her,  but  with  very 
different  feelings  from  what  she  had  imagined.  He  knew 
nothing  of  Philip's  passion,  and  had  enougli  to  do  to 
master  his  own  conflicting  emotions.  She  instinctively 
shrank  from  the  strange  light  in  his  eyes  when  she 
raised  hers  to  ask  why  so  many  of  the  soldiery  were 
on  board  that  day. 

"  I  don't  know  that  there  are  more  than  there  has 
been  every  day  for  weeks,"  he  replied.  "You  must 
know  that  large  bodies  of  troops  from  North  and  South 
are  massing  upon  the  line  of  the  Potomac  ;  that  collisions 
are  of  daily  occurrence  ;  and  that  we  are  probably  on 
the  eve  of  a  bloody  civil  war,"  he  continued  in  a  low, 
solemn  tone. 


THE  REBEL  GENERAL.  —  THE  PROPOSAL.   67 

"  I  read  and  hear  so,  but  have  hardly  begun  to  realize 
it  yet.  It  does  not  seem  possible  that  our  people  can  be 
so  mad  as  to  imbrue  their  hands  in  each  other's  blood. 
Oh  !  vihj  will  you  not  accept  such  terms  as  the  govern- 
ment can  honorably  offer,  and  cease  this  strife  about 
slavery  ?  " 

"  Because  slavery  is  the  strength,  the  vitality,  the  life- 
blood  of  the  South,  and  we  should  be  slaves  ourselves 
were  we  to  yield  up  the  right  to  extend  it  as  we  please. 
But  we  have  discussed  this  subject  before  ;  and  this 
is  not  the  place  for  it,  if  we  had  not,"  he  said  in  a 
lower  tone,  as  he  saw  the  attention  of  the  people  around 
began  to  be  attracted  by  their  conversation. 

Little  more  was  said  of  special  importance  during 
the  remainder  of  the  ride  ;  though  Col.  Atherton  sought, 
by  many  little  attentions,  to  establish  an  interest,  and 
secure  a  confidential  intercourse,  with  his  fair  compan- 
ion. 

When  at  last,  sometime  in  the  afternoon,  they  reached 
the  station  nearest  to  Hunter  Hills,  they  found,  as  they 
expected,  Mr.  Garland's  carriage  awaiting  them.  After 
partaking  of  some  refreshments,  they  entered  the  car- 
riage for  a  drive  of  twelve  miles.  Once  on  board,  seated 
side  by  side  and  alone,  as  the  driver  was  on  the  outside, 
Col.  Atherton's  manner  changed  very  perceptibly. 

"  I  have  been  greatly  concerned  to  hear  that  you-  are 
about  to  leave  Virginia,  Miss  Hale,"  he  said  in  deeply- 
earnest  tones. 

"  And  glad  to  get  rid  of  even  a  female  representative 
of  the  ^Yankee  abolition  nation,'  I  presume;"  and  Cath- 
arine tried  to  laugh  off  the  uneasiness  she  began  to  feel 
by  using  an  expression  she  had  often  heard  at  the 
South. 


68        THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

"No,"  he  exclaimed  with  sudden  energy,  and  a  look 
that  thrilled  her.  "You  should  never  go  home  if  I 
could  help  it." 

"  Why,  surely,  surely,  you  do  not  suspect  me  of  tam- 
pering with  the  slaves  ?  " 

"  No  ;  hut  rather  with  their  masters,  whom  you  are 
rohhing  of  their  hest  treasures,"  he  replied,  smiling  at 
her  frightened  look. 

"You  are  pleased  to  joke,  sir.  But  really  I  am  hegin- 
ning  to  fear  that  I  have  tarried  here  too  long,  and  tliat 
my  journey  home  will  he  a  serious  if  not  a  dangerous 
undertaking." 

"That  is  perfectly  true.  If  you  had  gone  home, 
instead  of  coming  to  Richmond,  last  winter,  you  could 
have  done  so  in  perfect  safety,  and  saved  more  than 
one  from  a  heartache.  As  it  is,  I  think  you  had  better 
remain  here.  And  indeed  we  cannot  allow  you  to  leave 
us." 

"But  I  must.     I  fear  I  am  unsafe  here  even  now." 

"There  is  a  way  in  which  you  can  easily  become 
safe." 

"  How  is  that  ?  "  she  eagerly  asked. 

"  By  casting  your  prejudices  to  the  winds,  and  be- 
coming one  of  us,"  he  said  with  a  keen,  searching 
glance. 

"That  is  impossible:  they  are  ingrained  in  my 
whole  being.  And  besides,  you  Southern  aristocrats 
with  whom  I  have  associated  as  an  inferior  would 
never  consider  a  poor  Yankee  governess  your  equaL 
At  home  I  am  as  good  as  anybody ;  and  I  can  never 
feel,  and  I  will  not  acknowledge,  my  inferiority  to  the 
best  of  you,  or  allow  myself  to  sink  to  a  lower  level." 

"  I  do  not  ask  it,  or  wish  to  lower  you  from  your  lof- 


THE  EEBEL   GENERAI..  —  THE  PROPOSAL.      69 

tiest  standard,"  he  said,  smiling  at  her  spirited  words, 
and  proud,  queenly  manner.  "  We  have  prejudices,  I 
must  admit,  and  strong  ones,  against  your  people  as  a 
class  ;  and  perhaps  we  do  them  some  injustice  :  but  we 
have  none  whatever  against  yourself;  you  have  overcome 
them  all.  You  are  better  and  nobler  than  the  race 
whence  you  sprung.  We  admire  your  beauty  and  tal- 
ents. We  acknowledge  your  superior  powers,  and  would 
gladly  exalt  them  to  the  high  station  you  are  so  well 
fitted  to  adorn." 

Catharine,  even  now,  had  no  suspicion  of  the  colonel's 
object  in  addressing  her  thus  ;  so  she  indignantly  an- 
swered, '- 1  will  not  suffer  you.  Col.  Atherton,  to  flatter 
me  at  the  expense  of  my  race  and  ancestry.  There 
are  thousands  of  Northern  girls  who  are  my  equal,  and 
even  my  superior,  in  every  quality  that  can  ennoble 
and  exalt  the  sex.  And  you  wrong  and  undervalue  our 
men  when  you  place  them  so  low  as  you  do  in  the 
scale  of  courage,  ability,  generosity  of  soul,  and  all 
human  excellence.  You  will  find  this  out  to  your  cost, 
if  this  dreadful  war  goes  on  ;  though  God  grant  that 
it  may  not  come  to  a  fearful  issue  ! " 

'•That  issue  has  already  come.  Miss  Hale, — from 
which  there  is  now  no  honorable  mode  of  retreat." 

"  Oh,  there  is,  —  there  must  be  !  And  let  me  entreat 
of  you,  Col.  Atherton,  to  use  your  great  influence  towards 
the  peace  and  harmony  of  the  nation." 

''  Your  abolition  President  inaugurated  war  when  he 
re-enforced  forts  and  fortresses,  and  set  State  rights  at 
defiance.     The  war  must  come." 

"  Must !  Oh,  I  believe  I  could  lay  down  my  life  to 
prevent  a  strife  in  which  thousands  of  other  lives  must 
be  sacrificed ! " 


70    THE  EEBEL  GEXERAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"I  think  you  overestimate  the  danger.  Your  people 
had  rather  work  and  traffic  than  fight ;  so  it  will  soon 
be  over.  And  you  can  do  better  with  your  life  than  to 
sacrifice  it,  even  in  thought,  to  a  chimera." 

"Perhaps  not.  Life  is  but  a  series  of  troubles  and 
disappointments  ;  and  death  is  sometimes  welcome." 

"But  not  to  one  like  you,  whose  life  would  be  the 
most  precious  thing  of  earth  to  him  whose  home  your 
love  would  make  a  paradise." 

"That  home  and  that  him,  I  think,  will  never  be 
found  by  me,"  smiled  Cutharme.  "  The  only  home 
upon  which  I  have  a  claim  seems  a  great  way  off  just 
now,  with  rivers  of  trouble  rolling  between  it  and  me." 

"There  is  a-  home  and  a  him  on  this  side  of  that 
river,  —  a  home  of  beauty  and  wealth,  comfort  and 
luxury,  awaiting  your  acceptance ;  whose  owner  would 
endeavor  to  make  it  a  paradise,  if  you  would  become  its 
mistress.  Won't  you,  fair  Catharine  ?  "  and  he  eagerly 
grasped  her  hand,  and  looked  searchingly  into  her  deep 
blue,  downcast  eyes  for  his  reply. 

"Whose,  —  whose  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked  tremu- 
lously. 

"  Mine  !    mine  alone  !  " 

"Then  Philip  has  not"  — 

"'  Philip  has  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  and  dare  not 
interfere  with  my  wishes.  It  is  I,  Edward  Atherton, 
who  ask  you  to  become  my  wife,  the  sharer  of  my  des- 
tiny, and  to  make  a  hitherto  joyless  home  a  happy  one," 
he  said  in  a  tone  of  deep  emotion.     "Will  you  do  so?" 

She  was  really  frightened  now  ;  and  her  hand  trem- 
bled like  a  leaf  in  his  strong  clasp.  He  felt  it ;  and  her 
rapidly-changing  color  and  continued  silence  alarmed 
him  at  once. 


THE  REBEL  GENERAL.  —  THE  PROrOSAL.   71 

"  Is  there  indeed  no  hope  for  me  ?  "  he  eagerly  ques- 
tioned. "  Do  I  seem  old  and  repulsive  to  you,  Catha- 
rine ?  " 

"oSTo,  no!  But  this  is  so  sudden,  so  wholly  unex- 
pected ! "  she  gasped. 

"  But  Philip,  —  you  mentioned  his  name.  Has  he 
indeed  dared  to  rival  me  ?  "  he  exclaimed  with  a  dark- 
ening frown. 

"  Col.  Atherton,  there  must  be  no  question  of  rivalry 
between  you  two.  If  there  were,  I  might  prefer  the 
elder  to  the  younger.  But  I  think  now  of  other  and 
more  insuperable  objections,  —  one  of  the  strongest  of 
which  is,  that  I  have  loved  another  too  w^ell  ever, 
ever  to  love  you,  or  any  other  man,  as  a  wife  ought  to 
love  her  husband,"  she  murmured  blushinglj^ 

"Oh!  I  know,  and  deeply  regret,  all  that;  yet  I 
would  heal  the  wounds  another  has  made  in  your  heart 
by  his  inconstancy.  I  believe  there  is  a  strong  chord 
of  sympathy  between  our  souls,  and  that  I  can  teach 
you  to  love  me  better  than  you  ever  did  him.  I  hnow 
you  could  not  resist  the  power  of  the  deep,  strong  pas- 
sion I  feel  for  you,  if  you  were  once  my  wife !  "  and  his 
eager,  ardent  looks  and  eloquent  tones  testified  at  least 
to  his  truth  and  sincerity. 

"Possibly  it  might  be  so.  Col.  Atherton.  I  know 
you  are  strongly  attractive  :  it  may  be  that  I  might 
learn  to  love  you.  And  yet,  if  I  did;  our  home  could 
never  be  a  happy  one  ;  for,  aside  from  those  strong 
political  prejudices,  that  would  be  sure  to  breed  strife,  1 
know  that  your  children  would  hate  me  as  they  would  a 
viper,  and  surely  make  my  life  wretched;  while  your 
other  friends  would  look  down  upon  me." 

"  Must  I,  then,  be  beholden  to  children  and  friends 


72         THE  PwEBEL   GEXERAL'S  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

for  the  happiness  or  misery  of  my  whole  future  life  ?  " 
said  he  passionately.  ^'  I  yielded  all  once  to  their  solici- 
tations. I  married  one  older  than  myself,  whom  I  did 
not  love,  to  please  her  and  them  by  securing  her  for- 
tune. Knowing  well  that  she  had  bought  me,  body  and 
soul,  she  was  ever  inclined  to  treat  me  as  a  slave,  until 
the  inheritance  of  wealth  greater  than  her  own  made 
me  in  her  eyes  her  equal.  There  could  be  no  happiness 
in  such  a  union  ;  and,  when  it  was  broken  by  death,  I 
resolved  never  to  form  another.  It  had  defrauded  my 
youth  of  love,  the  sole  creator  and  diffuser  of  happi- 
ness ;  and  I  had  grown  to  be  a  disbeliever  in  its  exist- 
ence until  I  met  with  you.  I  had  then  been  a  wid- 
ower for  years,  and  had  seen  hundreds  of  beautiful  and 
talented  ladies,  who  might  perhaps  have  been  won, 
without  a  wish  to  make  them  mine.  But  you  took 
my  heart  by  storm  before  we  had  exchanged  a  word. 
You  were  betrothed,  and  unapproachable  to  me  then ; 
but  fate  ordained  that  we  should  meet  again  under  other 
circumstances.  And  our  familiar  intercourse  in  Rich- 
mond has  served  to  strengthen  the  bond  by  which  you 
lead  me,  until  it  has  brought  me  here,  an  humble  sup- 
pliant for  your  favor.  0  Catharine !  must  my  loveless 
youth,  my  defrauded  manhood,  my  unbounded  love,  plead 
in  vain  to  you  for  affection  and  sympathy  ?  " 

Her  heart  was  softened  by  his  eloquent  appeal.  Lloyd 
Hunter  had  deserted  her ;  and  she  was  sure  she  never 
would  find  another  who  would  love  her  so  fondly :  so  there 
were  t«ars  in  her  eyes  as  she  said,  — 

"  I  do  sympathize  with  you.  Col.  Atherton.  I  am 
deeply  grateful  for  your  preference ;  and  if  you  were 
alone  in  the  world,  and  engaged  in  what  I  considered  a 
holier  cause,  I  could  almost  find  it  in  my  heart  to  respond 


THE  EEBEL  GENERAL.  —  THE  PROPOSAL.   73 

as  you  wish.  As  it  is,  I  do  not  dream  of  it.  Your 
family  have  demands  upon  you  that  cannot  be  silenced 
or  ignored.  And  more  than  all,  and  above  all  minor 
considerations,  we  stand,  in  a  national  point  of  view,  in 
the  light  of  mortal  enemies.  You  are,  if  I  mistake  not, 
a  leading  conspirator  against  what  I  consider  our  lawful 
government,  and  all  too  soon  probably  will  be  in  arms 
against  my  country  and  my  own  kindred.  I  hear  noth- 
ing from  them  of  late ;  but  I  know  their  patriotic  spirit 
too  well  to  believe  my  brothers  will  hesitate  one  moment 
in  offering  their  lives  and  services  to  their  country. 
Without  doubt,  they  are  already  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Potomac,  awaiting  the  terrible  onset ;  and  God's  curse 
would  fall  on  me,  were  I  to  send  a  husband  in  all  the 
panoply  of  arms  against  them.  So,  if  there  were  no 
other  reasons  in  the  universe  for  declining  your  suit,  Col. 
Atherton,  this  alone  would  compel  me  to  do  it." 

"Must,  then,  my  devotion  to  what  I  consider  a  just 
cause  prevent  and  blast  the  happiness  of  my  whole  future 
life  ?  Oh !  it  is  a  fearful  price  to  pay  for  a  mere  difference 
of  opinion." 

"  Col.  Atherton,  if  this  war  goes  on,  you  will  have  to 
pay  a  far  greater  price  than  that.  Por  what  is  one  man's 
happiness  or  misery  to  the  devastation  by  fire  and  sword 
of  all  this  beautiful  land,  the  bloody  sacrifice  of  thou- 
sands of  her  best  and  noblest  sons,  and  the  utter  ruin 
of  numberless  happy  families  ?  Oh  !  I  beseech  you,  by  all 
you  hold  dear  on  earth,  to  give  up  this  wild  scheme  of 
separation  from  the  Union,  to  return  to  your  allegiance, 
and  to  use  your  eloquent  tongue  and  noblest  powers  in 
persuading  others  to  give  up  this  mad  plan  of  secession." 

"No,  Catharine,  I  cannot  do  it,  even  though  your 
love,  the  most  precious  treasure  of  earth,  were  to  repay 


74   THE  REBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

me ;  for  I  have  had  too  much  to  do  with  planning  and 
forwarding  this  grand  scheme  of  secession  to  retreat  from 
it  now  iugloriously,  without  covering  my  name  with 
infamy  and  dishonor.  I  helieve  with  my  whole  soul 
that  the  North  and  South'  have  such  different  interests, 
tastes,  and  feelings,  that  they  can  never  live  and  work  to- 
gether harmoniously.  They  must  separate.  And  it 
may  as  well  be  now  as  ever.  I  have  thoroughly  studied 
the  principles  of  human  governments.  'I  know  that 
republics  are  but  the  resource  of  small  communities : 
they  are  never  adopted  by  mature  nations,  who  have 
passed  the  period  of  pupilage.  We  have  outgrown  that ; 
and  are  now  impatient  of  a  system  founded  on  past 
necessities.'  We  of  the  old  noble  Cavalier  descent,  too, 
are  impatient  of  the  domination  of  the  descendants  of 
the  old  Puritan  exiles  of  New  England,  who  come  from  a 
far  lower  grade  in  society." 

"  Why,  then,  do  jou  desire  to  ally  yourself  with  one  of 
their  humble  descendants  ?  "  said  Catharine  with  spirit. 

"  Because  you  have  talents  of  the  highest  order,  and  a 
spirit  as  soaring  and  aspiring  as  my  own.  You  must 
know  that  I  am  a  proud,  ambitious  man,  Miss  Hale  ;  and, 
if  I  judge  you  aright,  you  have  enough  of  those  feelings 
to  imderstand  mine,  when  I  tell  you,  that  all  my  hopes 
and  ambitions  for  the  future  are  centred  in  this  scheme, 
which  is  to  found  one  of  the  grandest  empires  on  the 
globe.  I  have  already  a  general's  commissiot  offered 
me  ;  but  that  is  nothing  to  the  positions  of  honor  to  which 
I  may  attain  if  our  plans  succeed.  0  Catharine  !  listen 
for  once  to  the  councils  of  wisdom  and  prudence.  Ee- 
nounce  your  cold-hearted  Northern  people ;  become  my 
bride,  the  idol  of  my  heart  and  home ;  and  I  will  raise 
you  to  a  position  in  which  your  beauty  and  talents  would 


THE  EEBEL  GENERAL. — THE  PROPOSAL.   75 

command  the  homage  of  a  nation.  And  is  it  not  better 
to  share  such  honors;  to  liavc  wealth  at  your  disposal 
for  purposes  of  benevolence;  to  be  able  to  surround 
yourself  with  luxury  and  splendor;  to  have  every  thing 
that  can  please  the  eye  and  gratify  the  taste,  —  than  to 
condemn  yourself  to  a  menial  station  for  life,  and  doom 
yourself  to  poverty,  toil,  and  a  thousand  privations,  until 
death  puts  an  end  to  your  misery  ?  " 

"  It  may  be  so,  Col.  Atherton.  And  to  an  ambitious 
girl,  as  you  rightly  judge  that  I  am,  the  temptations  of 
wealth  and  a  high  social  position  are  almost  irresistible. 
And  yet,  to  my  mind,  there  are  worse  things  in  the 
world  than  poverty,  toil,  and  an  humble  position  in  life." 

"  AYhat,  I  would  like  to  know  ?  " 

"  The  continued  upbraidings  of  a  guilty  conscience, 
which  would  be  mine,  were  I  to  sacrifice  principle,  home, 
friends,  and  the  most  sacred  national  and  individual  ties, 
to  a  vain  and  paltry  ambition  ;  and  for  that  alone  to  con- 
sent, by  my  example  and  influence,  to  fasten  upon  the 
necks  of  millions  the  yoke  of  a  more  enduring  bond- 
age. Ah,  Col.  Atherton,  do  not  try  to  tempt  me  further : 
it  can  do  no  good  to  yourself  or  me.  The  prejudices  of 
my  Puritan  education  are  too  strong  to  be  broken  by 
your  fallacious  reasoning.  And  no  fear  of  poverty,  toil, 
or  an  humble  position,  shall  induce  me  to  renounce  princi- 
ple, and  do  human  nature  so  foul  a  wrong." 

"  You  promised  to  wed  one  slaveholder.  In  what  am 
I  worse  than  he  ?  " 

"  There  was  not  then  this  fearful  issue  to  contemplate, 
—  no  empire  founded  on  slavery  talked  of;  and  I  hoped 
to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  two  hundred  human 
beings." 

"  I  have  five  times  that  number,  —  here  and  in  Georgia. 
Can  you  not  as  well  do  good  to  them  ?  " 


76    THE  EEBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"  I  am  wiser  now  tlian  I  was  then,  Col.  Atherton.  I 
realize  more  what  slavery  is,  and  is  to  be." 

"  What  is  it  to  be  ?  "  he  questioned. 

"  A  bone  of  contention  between  North  and  South,  until 
a  mightier  hand  than  ours  sweeps  it  from  the  face  of  the 
continent." 

"  There  you  are  grandly  mistaken.  I  believe  it  is  to 
increase  and  prosper,  until,  like  a  giant  tree,  it  overshadows 
the  whole  country.  But  here  we  are  at  Hunter  House  ; 
and  I  have  not  time  to  convince  you,  as  I  believe  I 
could,  if  I  had  the  opportunity,  that  your  positions  are 
false,  and  that  we  are  in  the  right.  Of  that  I  must 
convince  you  before  we  part,  for  I  cannot  give  you  up 
so.  If,  as  you  say,  you  have  no  personal  objections  to 
me,  I  shall  not  take  this  as  your  final  decision.  I  want 
you  to  think  of  it  well  before  you  positively  reject  one 
who  loves  you  as  his  life,  and  would  gladly  surround 
you  with  every  blessing." 

"  Col.  Atherton,  though  I  respect,  esteem,  and  even 
like  you  personally,  I  believe  that  every  hour  at  this 
time  but  adds  to  the  weight  of  my  objections." 

"  Let  us  hope  not,"  said  he  gloomily.  "  I  cannot 
bear  to  part  with  you,  Catharine.  Oh  !  if  you  were  my 
wife,  I  would  be  the  happiest  man  in  the  universe.  For 
your  sake  I  could  resign  the  hope  of  fame,  broad  lands, 
or  the  most  precious  earthly  treasure  ;  but  not  for  jouv 
love  must  I  consign  the  honored  name  that  has  come 
down  through  many  generations  to  shame  and  infamy." 

"If  you  were  ready  to  do  so,  I  would  not  accept  the 
sacrifice.  Col.  Atherton.  I  can  see  very  plainly  that  it  is 
better  for  us  both  to  part  as  we  are  ;  and  you  will  see  it 
hereafter.  You  will  see,  that,  in  wedding  a  poor  Yankee 
governess,  you  would  have  yoked  yourself  most  unequally, 


THE  EEBEL  GENERAL. — THE  PROPOSAL.   77 

in  every  way,  and  filled  your  life  with  bitter  regrets. 
I  have  neitlier  wealth  nor  fame  nor  power;  yet,  as  a  child 
of  the  same  loving  Father,  I  feel  myself  your  equal. 
But  with  the  inborn  pride,  —  child  of  that  noble  birth  of 
which  you  boast, — -and  the  prejudices  created  by  a  life- 
long training,  I  know  that  you  would  not  think  me  your 
equal  long,  even  though  love  may  blind  you  now." 

"Do  not  beheve  it.  I  am  no  changeling;  and  I  feel 
that  I  love  you  too  truly  and  fervently  ever  to  undervalue 
you  in  the  least.  But  we  will  talk  of  this  further  before 
we  part,"  he  said,  as  he  helped  her  out  of  the  carriage. 

Though  it  was  growing  dusk,  Walter  at  this  moment 
discovered,  and  came  running  out  to  meet  them.  He 
was  delighted  to  see  Catharine  and  his  uncle;  but  his 
eyes  filled  witlr  tears  when  he  told  them  how  very  ill  he 
had  found  his  father.  He  had  found  no  difiSculty  in  get- 
ting a  man  at  the  depot,  to  bring  him  home ;  and  he 
had  a  warm  welcome  at  the  end  of  his  journey. 

Catharine  was  surrounded,  welcomed,  and  disrobed  by 
the  delighted  servants,  as  soon  as  she  entered  the 
house.  They  were  all  eager  to  hear  the  news,  wonder- 
ing why  mistress  did  not  come  home,  and  anxious  to  tell 
all  the  particulars  of  master's  illness. 

The  moment  he  heard  of  their  arrival.  Major  Hunter 
sent  for  them  to  come  to  his  room.  His  face  was  pale 
and  cadaverous,  his  cheeks  hollow,  his  eyes  sunken  and 
glittering,  and  his  form  thin  and  attenuated,  as  he  lay 
upon  the  bed,  with  Uncle  Nick's  anxious  black  face  bend- 
ing over  him.  They  saw  at  once  that  he  was  indeed 
sadly  changed,  and  felt  that  his  days  were  numbered. 
He  shook  Col.  xitherton  warmly  by  the  band,  and  said 
that  he  was  glad  to  see  him,  but  drew  Catharine  down 
to  him,  and  kissed  her  tenderly. 


78        THE  REBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"  0  Catharine  ! "  he  exclaimed  in  a  faint,  feeble  tone, 
"you  don't  know  how  I  have  longed  for  your  presence, 
and  that  of  my  family  ;  how  much  I  have  suffered  from 
pain  and  loneliness.  If  you  had,  I  believe  you  at  least 
would  have  come  to  me.'*' 

"I  certainl}''  should,  my  dear  friend/"'  she  returned. 
*'  J  came  at  the  earliest  possible  moment  after  I  knew 
the  truth ;  though  Walter,  it  seems,  got  the  start  of  me." 

"  Yes :  poor  boy  !  he  has  braved  his  mother's  anger, 
of  which  she  will  repent  some  day.  God  bless  3^ou  for 
coming  !  and  grant  that  it  may  not  lead  you  into  danger 
in  these  troublous  times."  Then,  turning  to  the  colonel, 
he  said,  "  Well,  colonel,  —  or  perhaps  I  ought  to  say 
general,  —  secession  begins  to  work  bravely ;  don't  it  ?  — 
you  will  be  getting  out  a  patent  for  the  article.  You  see 
I  am  beginning  to  reap  some  of  its  benefits.  You  will 
be  getting  them  by  and  by.  Catharine,  dear,  you  look 
tired  and  nervous.  Pray,  go  and  get  you  some  tea,  and 
then  retire  to  your  room,  and  sleep  off  your  fatigue ; 
while  the  colonel  and  I  will  take  ours  together  here, 
and  have  a  quiet  chat." 

She  did  as  he  desired,  and  knew  little  of  their  eager, 
exciting  interview,  except  that  it  exhausted  the  major's 
strength,  and  was  thoroughly  unsatisfactory  to  both." 

The  colonel  left  soon  after  breakfast  next  morning, 
but  not  before  he  had  sought  and  obtained  an  interview 
with  Catharine,  and  used  every  argument  in  his  power 
to  induce  her  to  retract  her  decision.  But  she  was  still 
firm  in  her  refusal ;  and,  though  not  unmoved  by  his  elo- 
quent appeals,  felt  it  impossible  to  accede  to  his  wishes. 
She  had  heard  a  great  deal  from  the  servants  since 
her  arrival  about  the  troubled  state  of  the  country 
around  the  Hunter  Hills.     Bands  of  soldiery  and  guer- 


THE  REBEL  GENERAL.  —  THE  PROPOSAL.   79 

illas  were  plundering  plantations,  burning  houses,  mur- 
dering unoffending  inliabitants,  and  committing  all 
sorts  of  lawless  depredations.  All  this  tended  to  excite 
her  fears,  and  would  have  hurried  her  home,  if  she 
could  have  found  it  in  her  heart  to  leave  her  helpless  old 
friend,  who  clung  to  her  like  a  little  child.  Legging  herr 
to  stay  with  him,  and  whose  life  she  thought  was  nearl}' 
ended.  Col.  Athertou  was  sure  of  this,  and  thought 
he  might  die  at  any  time  ;  so  he  encouraged  Catharine 
and  little  Walter  to  remain  with  him  to  soothe  his  last 
hours  on  earth,  and  smooth  his  passage  to  the  tomb. 
He  promised  to  make  the  boy's  peace  with  his  mother ; 
persuade  her  to  come  to  them,  if  possible  ;  and,  when  all 
was  over,  to  give  Catharine  a  safe-conduct  out  of  the 
country.  They  parted  in  a  friendly  manner;  for,  al- 
thoush  his  last  interview  with  her  had  been  even  more 
unsatisfactory  than  the  first,  he  had  not  yet  given  up  all 
hope  regarding  her.  Major  Hunter  had  been  so  ill  as  to 
be  unable  to  sit  up  a  moment,  worn  out  by  a  racking 
cough,  night-sweats,  and  bloody  expectorations;  but, 
cheered  by  the  bright  presence,  careful  nursing,  and  ten- 
der attentions  of  Catharine  and  little  Walter,  he  soon 
began  to  mend.  His  cough  grew  easier ;  his  dangerous 
symptoms  vanished;  his  strength  and  appetite  gradu- 
ally returned ;  and  very  soon  he  was  able  to  sit  up,  and 
at  last  ride  out  every  day.  They  had  saved  his  life  by 
coming,  the  doctor  said  ;  and  there  was  now  a  fair  pros- 
pect of  his  recovery.  What  he  lived  for,  when  hope  had 
almost  ceased,  and  death  would  have  been  a  blessing, 
will  be  seen  presently. 

Col.  Atherton  wrote  to  Catharine  as  any  other  friend 
might  have  done,  saying,  that  he  could  not  persuade 
Mrs.  Hunter  to  return  to  her  husband  ;  though  she  was 


80         THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRmE. 

willing  that  Walter  should  stay,  under  Catharine's  super- 
vision. He  begged  her  to  write,  and  tell  them  how  the 
major  was  ;  and  whether  she  had  concluded  to  go,  or  re- 
main with  him. 

She  replied,  that  the  major  was  much  better,  but  so 
very  anxious  for  her  stay,  that  she  could  not  find  it  in 
her  heart  to  leave  him  at  present;  and  that  Walter, 
though  lonely,  could  not  be  induced  to  leave  his  dear 
father. 


CHAPTER  y. 

BULL    RUX. THE    OVERSEER. 

fef^fg^ff g) Hiy GS  Lad  worn  a  very  serious  aspect  in 
f^^'l^^^^^  Virginia  for  a  long  time  previous  to  this. 
Pl^l^v^  The  people  had  thought  and  talked  and 
]i?SftrSi^  argued  upon  the  subject  of  secession  ;  an«l, 
tliough  there  were  many  strong  Unionists,  there  were 
more  who  had  played  a  double  game,  —  mystifying  both 
parties,  so  as  to  be  able  to  join  the  strongest  by  and 

Xow,  however,  when  large  bodies  of  troops  from  the 
more    Southern    States  — the. hot-bed  of   the    rebellion 

-^vere  daily  arriving,  to   bully  and   overawe   all  who 

were  unfavorable  to  their  views,  these  were  obliged  to 
show  their  colors,  and  act.  As  the  rebellion  gained 
strength,  the  bitterness  and  hostility  between  the  oppos- 
ing parties  grew  so  hot  and  deadly  as  almost  to  surpass 
belief.  Pillage,  murder,  and  every  other  known  crime, 
was  committed  without  a  scruple  of  conscience.  The 
whole  country  was  in  a  state  of  turmoil  and  contention. 
Hundreds  of  escaping  slaves,  and  bands  of  desperadoes, 
rovin"-  in  every  direction,  made  it  unsafe  to  travel  with- 
out a  militar}'-  escort,  or  even  to  remain  at  home. 

The  tocsin  of  war,  and  rebellion  against  the  govern- 
ment, very  naturally  sounded  like  the  trump  of  freedom  in 

81 


82    THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

the  ears  of  the  poor  slaves :  it  suggested  very  strong!}'  to 
them  the  idea  of  rebellion  against  their  legal  masters. 
So  as  soon  as  hostilities  really  commenced,  and  they 
felt  as  if  there  was  a  friendly  arm  somewhere  to  protect 
them,  they  began  to  escape  in  large  numbers.  And, 
even  when  driven  bach  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet  by 
some  of  our  misjudging  proslavery  officers,  they  con- 
tinued to  brave  death  in  every  form  to  regain  freedom, 
—  "  that  dearest  gift  of  God  to  man."  This,  of  course, 
added  a  thousand-fold  to  the  turmoil,  wretchedness,  tmd 
strife  of  the  people  in  the  border  States,  and  fed  the 
^res  of  passion,  until  the  whole  country  was  in  a  blaze, 
and  the  white  people -were  ready  to  pour  out  their  blood 
to  regain  what  was  indeed,  in  most  cases,  lost  to  them 
forever. 

But  time  sped  on,  with  quite  as  hurried  a  march  of 
events  as  was  ever  known  in  the  world's  history.  By 
the  last  of  June,  a  hundred  thousand  patidotic  Northern 
men,  fired  by  the  insults  offered  to  their  national  flag  at 
Sumter,  were  gathered  upon  the  line  of  the  Potomac  to 
protect  the  Capitol,  —  that  fancied  bulwark  of  freedom. 
More  than  a  hundred  thousand,  well-armed  and  better 
equipped,  with  arms  surreptitioiisl}^  obtained  from  the 
national  armories,  faced  them  upon  the  opposite  shore. 
Both  parties  were  eager  for  the  contest  that  was  to  de- 
cide their  supremacy ;  but  neither  as  yet  dreamed  of 
the  length  and  breadth  and  deadliness  of  the  conflict  in 
which  they  were  about  to  be  engaged,  or  the  wonderful 
events  they  were  preparing  to  record  upon  the  pages  of 
a  world's  history. 

Already  baftles  had  been  fought  at  Big  Bethel,  in 
Missouri,  and  in  Western  Virginia,  in  which  oui 
N'orthern   troops   were   for   the    most    part   victorious, 


BULL   RUN.  —  THE  OVERSEER.  83 

when  the  defeat  —  nay,  total  rout  —  of  our  army  in  the 
advance  upon  Bull  Eun  cast  a  shadow  upon  our  na- 
tional arms,  and  a  pall  of  deep  gloom  over  the  hearts 
of  all  who  were  true  and  loj^al  to  their  country.  It  is 
not  our  purpose  to  describe  that  battle,  or  dwell  upon 
that  terrible  disappointment  of  individual  and  national 
hope.  We  will  only  say,  that  it  was  fought  within  a  few 
short  miles  of  Hunter  Hills,  where  the  sulphurous  smoke 
could  be  distinctly  seen,  and  the  thunderous  roar  could 
be  heard  and  felt. 

To  describe  the  feelings  of  Major  Hunter,  Catharine, 
and  indeed  all  who  listened  to  those  dread  and  ominous 
sounds,  during  those  two  dreadful  days,  would  be  impos- 
sible. It  seemed  as  if  that  sweet  July  sabbath  tliat 
dawned  so  brightly  and  beautifully  over  the  land,  would 
never,  never  come  to  an  end.  This  battle  had  taken 
them  by  surprise.  They  knew  the  Confederates  were 
massing  their  troops  at  Manassas  Junction,  but  noth- 
ing of  the  advance  of  our  lines,  until  the  murderous 
roar  saluted  their  ears.  Immediately  after  this  battle, 
more  than  ever  before,  small  detachments  of  troops  and 
bands  of  gueriUas,  flushed  with  victory,  and  lusting  for 
rapine  and  plunder,  began  scouring  the  country  in  all 
directions. 

Though  more  than  a  mile  from  either  of  the  great 
thoroughfares,  the  plantation  had  already  been  visited 
several  times  by  foraging  and  patrolling  parties,  to 
whose  demands  Major  Hunter  had  been  obliged  to  yield 
an  unwilling  assent.  Still  he  would  not  believe  there 
was  really  any  danger  to  be  apprehended  there  from 
opposing  factions  of  his  own  countrymen.  Catharine 
wished  him  to  go  Xorth  witli  her  as  soon  as  he  was  able 
to  travel,  or  else  back  to  Eichmond. 


84        THE  REBEL  GEXERAl's   LOYAL  BPwIDE. 

The  first  was  too  dangerous,  and  was  indeed  im- 
practicable then,  he  said;  and,  as  for  the  Last,  ho 
never  would  go  back,  and  force  himself  into  his  wife's 
presence,  after  she  had  refused  to  come  to  him  in  his 
need.  No:  a  man's  house  was  his  castle;  and  he 
had  plenty  of  arms,  and  two  hundred  able  defenders, 
who  would  figlit  till  their  last  breath  for  him.  He 
would  stay  there,  in  spite  of  every  thing;  yielding 
only  his  substance  because  his  country,  however  wrongly, 
demanded  it,  and  had  the  power  to  enforce  her  demands. 
Catharine,  as  may  well  be  supposed,  was  uneasy 
enough  under  the  circumstances,  but,  seeing  no  present 
mode  of  escape,  tried  to  content  herself,  and  make  the 
best  of  it.  As  it  was,  she  would  not  have  cared  so  much, 
had  not  a  new  source  of  annoyance  presented  itself. 

The  old  overseer,  under  whose  judicious  management 
the  major's   affairs   had   thrived  for  twenty  years,  had 
resigned  and  gone  to  the  West  three  years  before ;  and 
a  new  one,  a  Yankee  by  birth,  had  taken  his  place  upon 
the  plantation.     Tliis  man,  whose  name  was  Sweep,  was 
at  heart  a  scheming,  unprincipled,  time-serving  rascal, 
but  had  contrived  thus  far  to  deceive  the  major  by  his 
speciousness.     He  was  heartily  disliked  by  the  slaves, 
but  soon  subdued  them  to  his  will ;  so  that  they  dared 
make  no  complaints  to  the   master.     Sweep  was  there 
when  Catharine  entered  the  family ;  and  as  he  had  none 
of  his  own,  and  frequently  took  his  meals  with  them, 
she   had   a   chance   to   see   him    almost   every  day  for 
months.     From  reasons  she  could  not  have  explained, 
she  took  a  dislike  to  him  from  the  first,  though  one  of 
her  own  New-England  people,  and  avoided  him  when 
she  could.     She  could  not  do  this  as  well  in  the  absence 
of  Mrs.  Hunter  after  her  return,  as  he  had  contrived 


BULL  KUN.  —  THE   OVERSEER.  85 

to  make  himself  very  necessary  to  the  major,  and  was 
forever  around  him  when  he  had  the  opportunity.  So 
she  unavoidably  saw  a  great  deal  of  him,  and  very 
soon,  to  her  great  annoyance,  received  from  him  an  offer 
of  marriage,  which  she  politely  declined.  To  Catharine 
and  the  major,  this  man  professed  Union  sentiments; 
but,  from  some  things  she  had  heard  whispered  among 
the  slaves,  she  suspected  him  of  underhanded  dealings 
with  the  Confederates,  and  of  instigating  the  raids 
upon  the  major's  property. 

One  evening,  a  few  days  after  the  battle,  it  was  very 
warm ;  and  the  family  at  Hunter  House  were  gathered 
upon  the  broad  piazza,  watching  the  going  down  of  the 
sun,  and  the  gathering  of  the  evening  shadows  over  the 
landscape.  They  were  talking  of  the  details  of  the  bat- 
tle, and  the  blighting  effects  of  the  war  upon  the  coun- 
try. The  major  had  been  sadder  and  far  more  depressed 
that  day  than  usual.  Catliarine's  music  and  conversa- 
tion, and  his  son's  glad  voice,  seemed  to  have  lost  their 
power  to  cheer  him.  And  now,  as  he  sat  there  in  his 
easy-chair,  with  her  on  one  side  of  him,  and  Walter  on 
the  other,  with  one  arm  thrown  lovingly  around  his 
father's  neck,  and  the  other  hand  playing  with'  the 
tassels  of  his  rich  velvet  dressing-gown,  the  old  man's 
head  was  bent  down,  and  rested  on  his  hand ;  and  his 
whole  manner  betokened  the  deepest  dejection. 

"Catharine,"  he  said  at  last,  raising  his  head,  "I  have 
loved  you,  I  believe,  as  well  as  if  you  were  my  own  child  ; 
and  you  have  done  that  for  me  which  gold  can  never 
repay.  Yet  I  begin  to  fear  I  have  done  you  a  groat 
wrong  in  selfishly  keeping  you  here,  when  you  ought  to 
have  gone  home.  Perhaps,  too,  I  was  unwise  in  refusing 
to  go  with  you  and  Walter  to  Richmond.     But  you  know 

8 


86    THE  REBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

my  reasons.  Surrounded  by  so  many  strong  hands  and 
loving  hearts,  I  felt  safe,  or  I  would  never  have  asked 
you  to  stay,  or  kept  Walter,  whom  I  might  have  sent 
back  with  his  uncle.  Yes :  I  felt  safe  enough  here  ;  but, 
strangely  enough,  last  night  my  sense  of  safety  vanished 
before  a  dream.  I  was  told  that  Hunter  House  was  in 
ruins ;  that  the  strong  arms  upon  which  I  leaned  were 
broken  reeds  that  would  pierce  my  heart,  and  warned  to 
flee  at  once  from  some  great  danger.  Now,  I  never  be- 
lieved in  dreams,  and  I  always  considered  it  a  mark  of 
weakness  to  place  the  least  reliance  upon  them.  Yet 
this  one  has  affected  me  singularly ;  and  I  cannot  get  it 
out  of  my  mind.  If  it  hadn't  looked  so  silly,  I  don't 
know  but  I  should  have  acted  upon  it  to-day  by  taking 
you  and  Walter  to  Richmond.  Perhaps  you  had  better 
go  to-morrow,  if  you  think  it  safer  there  than  here ;  for  I 
would  not  have  you  harmed  for  the  world." 

"Oh,  do  go,  papa,  and  let  us  all  be  happy  together 
once  more  !  "  said  little  Walter  with  a  homesick  sob. 

"  We  may  live  together  ;  but  we  never  can  be  as  happy 
as  of  yore,  my  son.  I  hope  you  and  Catharine  may  be  ; 
for  3^ou  are  both  young,  and  may  live  to  see  the  end  of 
these  troublous  times." 

"  And  you  too,  my  friend,"  said  Catharine  fervently. 
"May  the  dark  clouds  in  your  political  and  domestic  hori- 
zon soon  pass  over,  leaving  you  to  a  serene  and  happy 
old  age ! " 

"  I  do  not  hope  for  it :  I  know  but  too  well  that  these 
troubles  are  long,  while  my  span  of  life  is  short.  I  have 
been  hoping  all  along  for  a  peaceful  solution  to  our  na- 
tional difficulties  ;  but  now  that  blood  has  been  shed,  and 
a  victory  won,  our  people  will  consider  themselves  invin- 
cible.    No  amount  of  coaxing  can  win  them  back  j  untU 


BULL  RUN.  —  THE  OVERSEER.  87 

rivers  of  blood  have  rolled  over  the  land.  Our  people 
are  rash  and  impetuous  ;  and  political  fanatics  have  been 
kindling  the  flames  of  discord  among  them  for  years. 
But  still,  if  the  North  had  been  actuated  by  a  conciliat- 
ing spirit,  and  yielded  what  they  might  without  the 
sacrifice  of  one  particle  of  honor,  this  war  would  never 
have  been.  But  those  old,  stiff,  puritanical  principles 
that  actuate  your  people  would  not  allow  them  to  do 
this.  They  knew  that  slavery  was  wrong,  and  that  they 
wt;re  in  the  right ;  so  they  would  not  concede  one  jot  to 
Southern  prejudices ;  and  we  must  abide  by  the  conse- 
quences." 

"  If  our  countrymen  had  known  each  other  better,  — 
known  that  there  were  souls  as  pure  and  as  true,  hearts 
as  brave  and  as  tender,  and  feelings  as  warm  and  kind 
and  sensitive,  at  the  South  as  at  the  North,  —  at  the 
East  as  at  the  West,  —  it  might  never  have  been,"  said 
Catharine  with  a  sigh.  ^'  I  am  sure  a  more  thorough 
knowledge  of  each  other  would  have  dissipated  many  of 
our  strongest  prejudices." 

"  That  is  true  ;  and  yet  slavery  would  have  remained 
a  festering  sore,  a  blight  and  a  blot  to  any  nation,  and, 
most  of  all,  to  one  professing  to  be  free.  Yet,  if  our 
people  had  treated  their  slaves  as  they  ought,  there 
would  never  have  been  such  a  hue  and  cry  about  the 
Fugitive  Slave  Law,  which,  first  and  last,  has  created  more 
than  half  the  trouble :  indeed,  there  would  never  have  been 
a  Fugitive  Slave  Law  at  all.  You  know  how  my  slaves 
are  treated ;  and  never,  until  after  Sweep  came  here,  has 
a  single  one  left  my  service.  He  means  well,  and  is  a 
grand  hand  to  get  a  great  deal  of  work  out  of  a  gang ; 
but  I  can  see  that  they  do  not  like  him  as  they  did  Grover. 
Now,  however,  the  whole  band  will  be  scattered.     I  have 


88        THE  EEBEL  GEXERAL's  LOrAL  BKIDE. 

already  "been  obliged  to  fill  a  large  requisition  to  work 
on  the  defences  at  Manassas  Junction ;  and  I  can  see 
that  the  time  is  at  hand  when  this  land  is  to  be  overrun 
with  hostile  armies,  —  the  one  battling  for  slavery,  the 
other  strong  in  the  cause  of  freedom ;  yet  both  devastat- 
ing the  country,  and  sounding  the  trump  of  freedom  in 
the  ears  of  these  very  slaves  for  whose  possession  the 
South  are  fighting  so  madly.  They  cannot  resist  that 
bugle-call.  They  will  rise  against  their  masters.  And 
if,  when  that  time  comes,  your  people  are  true  to  the 
principles  they  profess,  and  improve  their  opportunities, 
the  bond  that  holds  them  will  not  be  worth  a  straw.  I 
told  Atherton  so  when  he  was  here  ;  but  he,  like  all 
the  rest  of  the  leaders  in  this  rebellion,  is  thinking  more 
of  founding  a  glorious  empire,  of  which  slavery  is  to  be 
the  chief  corner-stone,  and  they  the  rulers  and  nobility, 
than  of  the  interests  of  humanity,  or  best  good  of  the 
nation.'^ 

"  Yes :  he  mentioned  some  such  thing  to  me." 
"  Ah,  he  avows  it  then  ?  Atherton  is  not  a  bad  man 
by  any  means ;  but  he  is  madly  ambitious,  and  as  well 
fitted  for  a  leader  in  an  unjust  cause  as  his  daughter  was 
to  entice  and  mislead  my  apostate  son.  0  my  God! 
that  he  upon  whom  I  had  hoped  to  lean  in  my  old  age, 
should  turn  traitor  to  his  country,  and  that  my  wife  and 
my  other  children  should  be  joined  to  their  idols,  and 
leave  me  to  die  uncared  for  and  alone  !  Walter,  my 
youngest-born  and  dearest  child  of  my  old  age,  sole 
scion  of  my  house  that  is  left  to  me,  promise  me,  tliat, 
whatever  liappens,  you  will  ever  be  true  to  your  God, 
your  whole  country,  and  the  noble  principles  I  have 
taught  you ; "  and  he  laid  his  hand  tenderly  upon  his 
son's  head. 


BULL  RUN.  —  THE  OVERSEER.  89 

"  I  swear  it,"  said  the  noble  boy,  reverently  holding  up 
his  hand  as  he  had  seen  others  do. 

"  It  is  enoucrli,"  said  the  old  man  solemnly.  ^'  I  have 
felt  to-day  more  than  ever  before,  that  my  life  is  almost 
ended.  I  shall  not  live  to  see  the  close  of  this  war.  But 
when  I  go,  Walter,  I  shall  now  have  the  satisfaction  of 
knowing  that  I  leave  one  to  bear  up  the  name  who  will 
never  disgrace  his  noble  lineage.  I  wish  he  could  go  to 
our  dear  Lucy  and  her  noble  husband,  who  are  true  and 
stanch  and  loyal ;  or  else  home  with  you,  Catharine,  for 
I  know  you  would  make  of  him  a  good  and  noble  man. 
But  I  ought  not  to  ask  it ;  for  you  have  already  had 
trouble  enough  to  wear  the  bloom  from  your  cheek.  God 
forscive  those  who  have  caused  it !  " 

"  Don't  speak  of  it,"  said  Catharine  tearfully.  "  It 
was  aU  for  the  best,  I  am  sure.  As  to  our  dear  little 
Walter,  I  would  take  him  if  I  could ;  "  and  she  looked 
tenderly  and  pityingly  into  his  great,  dark,  loving  eyes. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  that  is  impossible  just  now.  His 
mother  no  doubt  will  claim  him ;  and  I  believe  you  must 
take  him  to  Richmond  to-morrow.  Though  the  city  is 
wedded  to  secession,  it  must  be  safer  there  than  here, 
where  lawless  bands,  belonging  to  no  party  but  Satan's, 
are  roving  in  every  direction.  I  fear  now  we  are  too 
isolated  here  to  be  safe ;  so  you  and  Walter  had  better 
go.  Then,  if  you  still  wish  to  go  home,  you  can  caU  on 
Atherton  for  the  pass  he  promised  to  give  you." 

"  But  you  are  not  going  to  remain  here,  alone  and  in 
danger  ? " 

"  Yes,  Catharine.  My  wife  refused  to  come  to  me, 
even  when  they  thought  me  dying  ;  so,  whatever  comes 
of  it,  I  will  not  force  myself  into  her  presence  now. 
I  truly  pity  and  forgive  her  for  what  must  ever  be  a 

8* 


90    THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

weight  upon  lier  conscience.  I  know  my  darlings, 
Jennie  and  Fannie,  would  have  come  to  me  if  they  had 
had  a  choice ;  and  I  want  you  to  give  them  my  bless- 
ing." 

As  she  looked  and  listened,  Catharine's  heart  began 
to  thrill  with  a  strange  feeling  of  dread.  The  old  gen- 
tleman seemed  quite  as  well  as  usual ;  yet  his  pathetic 
words,  solemn  tones,  and  deeply-impressive  manner 
seemed  so  much  like  those  of  a  dying  old  patriarch,  that 
she  began  to  feel  as  if  she  was  in  the  presence  of  death. 

"Major  Plunter,"  she  said  at  last,  "you  have  been 
very,  very  kind  to  me ;  and  I  cannot  think  of  leaving 
you  in  danger  and  alone.  If  there  is  a  safer  place,  you 
must  go  to  it  with  us  to-morrow.  "We  can  go  to  a  hotel, 
or  a  friend's  house,  if  you  dislike  going  home." 

"No,  Catharine:  that  would  be  just  publishing  our 
disgrace  to  the  world,  —  nothing  more.  But  there  comes 
Sweep.     I  wonder  what  news  he  brings  to-night." 

The  news  he  did  bring  was  a  great  many  soul-stirring 
and  heart-rending  particulars  of  the  late  battle ;  of 
the  terrible  rout  of  the  Union  army,  which  was  repre- 
sented four  times  as  large  as  it  really  was ;  of  the 
large  number  of  prisoners  and  wounded  who  were 
being  carried  by  every  train  to  E-ichmond ;  of  the 
great  strength  of  the  fortifications  at  Manassas,  and  the 
arrival  of  large  re-enforcements  from  the  South ;  and, 
finally,  that  the  whole  country  was  full  of  roving  bands, 
who  were  stripping  and  devastating  the  plantations. 

"It  is  a  horrible  state  of  things,"  said  the  major,  "but 
no  worse  than  I  have  anticipated  for  months.  I  have 
prepared  for  it  as  well  as  I  could.  Since  my  return 
here,  sick  as  I  was,  I  have  forwarded,  by  a  trusty  hand, 
most  of  my  money,  plate,  and  most  precious  papers  to 


BtILL  ETTN.  —  THE  OVERSEER.  91 

Washington,  intending  to  go  there  myself  just  as  soon 
as  I  was  able.  That  is  now  impossible,  but  it  it 
should  happen,  Catharine,  that  you  or  any  of  niy  family 
are  in  want,  go  or  send  to  my  old  friend,  John  Brandon, 
in  Washington ;  and  he  has  my  orders  to  supply  you 
with  whatever  funds  you  need."  ,„    ,  .     ^ 

«  To  Washington !  Every  thing  sent  to  Washington, 
and  I  know  nothing  about  it  W  exclaimed  the  overseer, 
in  a  sharp,  surprised,  interrogative  tone.  _ 

"There  was  no  necessity  for  any  one's  knowing  that 
my  friend  Randolph  took  more  away  in  his  trunks  than 
he  brought  here,"  said  the  major  coldly. 

"  Randolph  !  "    echoed    Sweep.      "  Strange  that    1 

never  suspected  !  "  i    j  •    i 

The  major  looked  at  Sweep  in  surprise  and  displeas- 
ure if  not  suspicion,  until  be  adroitly  changed  the  sub- 
ject. "It  is  getting  late  for  you  to  be  out,  major: 
hadn't  you  better  retire?  "  he  suggested. 

''Perhaps  so;  but  I  would  like  to  wait  and  see  the 
moon  rise :  I  am  not  sleepy  in  the  least." 

"  But  you  are  still  feeble ;  and  it  might  be  danger- 
ous "  said  Catharine. 

« I  know :  but  the  house  is  stifling.  I  am  too  strangely 
excited  and  nervous  to  sleep.  I  could  not  be  more  so 
were  I  going  up  in  a  balloon  -  as  I  wish  I  were  -  o 
the  clouds,  and  above  them,  where ^^ the  woes  of  old 
Virginia  would  never  afdict  me  more." 

"  Those  dreadful  details  have  been  too  much  for  you 
my  friend,"  said  she  anxiously,  putting  her  arm  around 
him  caressingly.     "Pray  let  Walter  and  me  persuade 

you  to  retire."  , 

"You  know  you  can  always  coax  me,  darlmg;   don  t 
you  ?  "  said  he,  smiling,  as  he  rose  to  his  feet.     "  There, 


92    THE  EEBEL  GENERAL' S  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

give  me  a  good-night  kiss ;  and  may  Heaven  bless  you 
for  all  your  kindness,  my  child,  and  soon  restore  you  to 
peace  and  happiness ! " 

Catharine  kissed  him  tenderly,  receiving  as  warm  a 
return.  Sweep  came  forward  officiously  with  Kick,  his 
favorite  servant;  and  the  major,  taking  Walter's  little 
hand  in  his,  bade  Catharine  good-night,  and  left  the 
piazza. 

For  some  time  she  paced  back  and  forth,  anxiously 
musing  upon  the  major's  strange  manner,  and  thrilling 
with  horror  at  the  thought  of  those  dreadful  battle- 
scenes.  Dreading  lest  some  dear  friend  of  her  own  was 
among  them,  she  longed  for  invisible  wings,  that  she 
might  go  at  once,  and  see  and  succor  and  save.  "  Who 
knows,  after  all,"  she  mentally  murmured,  "that  my 
stay  here  may  not  be  providential  ?  Can  I  not  contrive 
to  see  and  care  for  m}^  suffering  countrymen  in  Eich- 
mond  as  I  could  never  have  done  at  home  ?  "  While 
musing  thus,  she  sat  do^vn  in  the  major's  easy-chair, 
watching  the  glimmering  beams  of  the  rising  moon,  and 
the  rapid  fading  of  the  lights  in  the  slave-cabins ;  in- 
haling the  fragrance  of  the  flowers  that  were  blooming 
all  around  her ;  and  listening  to  the  croaking  of  frogs, 
and  the  incessant  chirp  of  crickets,  katydids,  tree-toads, 
and  multitudes  of  insects.  All  at  once  she  became  con- 
scious that  she  was  not  alone. 

"  Plaguy  fine  evenin' ;  ain't  it,  Miss  Catharine," 
echoed  the  squeaking,  disagreeable  voice  of  the  overseer. 

"Yes,"  she  replied  rather  curtly,  hoping  to  get  rid 
of  him. 

"  I  thought  you'd  be  lonesome  out  here  by  yourself." 

"Not  at  all:  I  generally  enjoy  my  own  thoughts 
about  as  well  as  anybody's." 


BULL  KUN.  —  THE  OYEKSEER.  93 

"  Well,  I  see  you  wanted  to  get  tlie  old  man  an'  boy 
oif ;  but  I  didn't  know  but  you'd  want  to  talk  to  some- 
body." 

"  I  was  about  to  retire,  Mr.  Sweep,"  said  she,  rising  ; 
"  so  I  wisb  you  a  pleasant  night's  rest." 

"Don't  be  in  sich  a  hurry,  Miss  Kate.  Pray  be 
seated,  an'  listen  to  a  feller  once  in  yer  life.  You'll  be 
sorry  to  the  day  of  your  death  if  you  don't  hear  what 
I've  got  to  tell  ye  this  night ;  for,  as  sure  as  you  live, 
it's  the  crisis  and  turnin'-pint  in  yer  destiny." 

Awed  a  little  by  his  manner,  she  dropped  again  into 
the  seat,  and  looked  up  at  him  inquiringly,  though  the 
looks  of  the  man  were  not  encouraging.  He  was  a  tall, 
gaunt,  broad-shouldered,  yellow-skinned,  weazen-faced 
individual,  with  a  low,  narrow  forehead,  little  twinkling 
gray  eyes,  a  long  nose,  thin,  cadaverous  features,  sandy 
hair,  and  a  smirking,  deprecating  manner.  In  age  he 
was  probably  about  forty.  Catharine  inwardly  shrank 
from  him,  as  he  came  and  placed  his  arm  familiarly 
over  the  back  of  her  chair. 

"  These  are  terrible  ticklish  times  ;  ain't  they  ?  "  he 
began.  "  It's  my  opinion  that  we  Yankees  would  be  a 
plaguy  sight  safer  t'other  side  of  the  Potomac ;  don't 
you  think  so.  Miss  Catharine  ?  " 

"Of  course  I  do.  But  to  get  there  is  out  of  the 
question  just  now,  as  they  grant  no  passes  to  Northern 
people." 

"No,  'tain't  out  of  the  question,  by  ginger!  for  I  can 
get  there  'most  any  time,  for  all  the  rebel  pickets,  and 
be  as  safe  as  a  thief  in  a  mill." 

"  Why  don't  you  then,  if  such  is  the  fact  ?  " 

"  'Cause  I'm  waitin'  for  somebody  to  get  willin'  to  go 
with  me,"  he  returned  with  a  smirking  laugh.     "You 


94         THE  BEBEL  GENERAl's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

see,  Miss  Kate,  we  never  half  done  that  talk  we  had 
t'other  day ;  and  I  wanted  to  finish  up  the  argyment 
before  I  left  Old  Secesh  for  good.  I  forgot  to  tell  ye, 
strangely  enough,  how  I'd  been  down  South  here,  one 
place  and  another,  this  dozen  year  or  more,  and  have 
got  together  over  twenty  thousand  dollars,  all  safe  an' 
sound  up  in  iSTew  England,  besides  four  or  five  thousand 
more  with  me  here  in  Virginia.  oSTow  it  stands  to  nater 
that  a  gal  of  sense  like '  j^ou  would  have  a  feller  that's 
got  the  rhino  a  leetle  quicker  than  a  poor  scalawag 
who  might  let  her  starve.  Now,  I  took  a  shine  to  j^ou. 
Miss  Kate,  the  minit  I  set  eyes  on  je;  and  I  felt  like 
wringin'  Master  Lloyd's  neck  when  I  see  him  shinnin' 
round  ye.  He  was  a  rich  gentleman ;  and  you  wa'n't  to 
blame,  in  course,  for  tryin'  to  du  as  well  as  you  could. 
I  was  darned  glad,  though,  when  he  quit ;  and  I  won't 
be  at  all  stomachful  about  it,  if  you'll  only  come  round, 
and  have  me." 

*^i  have  told  you  already,  IMr.  Sweep,  that  I  could 
not  do  that,"  said  Catharine  almost  angrily.  ''So,  if 
there  is  nothing  else  "  — 

"But  there  is  something  else.  I^Tow,  I  happen  to 
know  that  you  ain't  at  all  safe  in  these  diggin's,  unless 
you  want  to  be  toted  off  some  dark  night  by  a  young 
Confederate  ojfficer  I  see  down  to  the  village  inquiring 
after  ye." 

"Who,  pray?" 

"  Oh !  a  tall  feller,  with  a  handsome  face,  midnigh  t 
hair,  big  black  eyes,  and  a  small  scar  on  the  left  cheek." 

Catharine  was  a  little  startled.  The  description  just 
fitted  Philip  Atherton ;  but  she  would  not  show  interest 
enough  in  the  subject  to  ask  if  it  were  he. 

"  I  guess  you  know  well  enough  who  it  was,"  he  con 


BTJLL  RUN.  —  THE  OVERSEER. 


95 


tinned.  ^'But  say,  now,  hadn't  you  rayther  get  spliced 
to  a  feller  that  means  honestly  by  ye  than  to  run  the 
resk  of  bein'  toted  off  by  one  of  them  proud  devils? 
They  can  talk  moonshine  by  the  hour  ;  but  they  would 
no 'more  marry  a  poor  Yankee   governess,   than  they 

would  be  hanged." 

"Do  you  mean  this  for  an  insult,  i\[r.  Sweep?  said 
she  indignantly.  '-'We  are  going  to  Eichmond  to-mor- 
row, where  there  are  those  who  will  protect  us;  and  I 
am  not  afraid  of  your  Confederate  of&cer." 

"To  Eichmond!  Ay!  But  hadn't  you  rayther  go 
back  with  me,  now,  to  old  New  England,  where,  with 
my  money  and  yourn  put  together,  we  could  cut  as  big 
a  swell  as  the  best  on  'em  ?  " 

"No  ! "  said  she  decidedly.  ^- You  and  I,  Mr.  Sweep, 
could  never  become  congenial  companions." 
"  But  why  ?  Ain't  I  good  enough  for  ye  ?  " 
"You  may  be  too  good,  for  aught  I  know;  but  our 
ideas,  opinions,  ways  of  thinking,  and  past  associations 
have  been  wholly  dissimilar;  and  we  never  could  be 
mutually  happy  in  each  other's  society." 

"In  what  do  we  differ,  I  should  like  to  know,  except 
some  little  notions  about  niggers  ?  " 

"Well,  that  is  enough,  if  there  were  nothing  else. 
A  Southern  man,  with  a  Southern  education  and  preju- 
dices, inheriting  slaves,  to  many  of  whom  he  is 
strongly  attached,  has  some  excuse  for  retaining  and 
ruling  them.  But  a  Northern  one,  born  and  reared  in 
the  land  of  the  free,  and  then  coming  down  here  to  be 
a  slave-driver  for  the  sake  of  gain,  has  none  at  all,  in 
my  estimation." 

"  So  that's  the  talk,  is  it  ?  I  guess,  though,  if  he  was 
as  rich,  his  gold  would  tempt  you  jest  as  quick  as  Lloyd 
Hunter's  or  Philip  Atherton's." 


96    THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"Kever!  I  abhor  slavery;  and  do  amount  of  gold 
would  tempt  me  now  to  wed  either  a  slave-owner  or  a 
slave-driver." 

"  What's  a  poor  Yankee  governess  better  than  a  rich 
Yankee  slave-driver,  I'd  like  to  know?  It  strikes  me 
that  the  condescension,  if  there  is  any,  is  all  on  his  side, 
ma^am."  And*  his  thin  lips  curled  with  scorn,  and  his 
gray  eyes  glittered  and  flashed  in  the  bright  moonbeams, 
and  his  low  brow  contracted  into  a  dark  frown,  as  he 
said  it. 

Catharine  was  angry  and  excited,  or  she  would  not 
have  said  what  she  did ;  and,  when  she  saw  his  ominous 
looks,  she  began  to  feel  as  if  this  fawning,  sycophantic 
man  was  neither  silly  nor  trifling,  and  that  she  was 
making  of  him  a  dangerous  enemy. 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  continued  bitterly:  "you  were  very 
ready  once  to  wed  a  slave-owner,  but  not  a  slave-driver, 
forsooth.  You  had  sense  enough  to  see  the  difference. 
But  v.'hat  is  one  better  than  the  other  ?  " 

"Perhaps  not  any.  Both  commit  the  sin  for  the 
sake  of  gain,  but  it  is  none  the  less  a  sin ;  and  I  shall 
respect  myself  more  to  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  it." 

"  Or  me." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Sweep.  I  wish  you  well,  and  am  sorry  for 
your  disappointment,  if  it  is  any ;  but  conscience  com- 
pels me  to  decline  the  honor  of  your  hand." 

"  Very  well.  You  may  wish  it  didn't,  though :  for, 
mark  my  words,  I  am  not  used  to  bein'  thwarted ;  and 
this  is  not  the  end  of  the  matter." 

"  It  is  of  no  use  to  carry  it  further.  Good-night,  sir," 
said  she  coldly,  as  she  rose  and  entered  the  mansion. 
She  felt  troubled  not  a  little  by  his  covert  threats  and 
sinister  manner. 


BULL  RUN.  —  THE  OVERSEER.  97 

"That  man  is  a  villain  !  I  always  felt  it  instinctively. 
For  gold  lie  would  sell  his  own  soul,  his  father's  bones, 
or  his  sister's  honor.  Whoever  trusts  him  does  it  at 
his  peril.  How  I  blush  that  my  own  State  should 
suffer  the  disgrace  of  rearing  so  degenerate  a  son  ! 
Thank  God!  there  are  few  like  him,"  were  Catharine's 
mental  comments,  as  she  laid  her  head  on  her  pillow. 
But  she  was  too  much  excited  to  sleep.  The  clock 
struck  ten,  eleven,  twelve ;  and  still  she  was  tossing 
upon  her  pillow,  or  sitting  up  watching  the  moonbeams, 
thinking  of  all  that  had  transpired,  or  listening  to  noises 
in  the  major's  chamber,  which  was  next  to  her  own. 
She  knew,  from  various  sounds,  that  he  was  waking,  and 
two  or  three  times,  when  she  had  almost  gained  the 
land  of  dreams,  a  smothered  groan  would  thrill  her 
nerves  like  an  electric  shock ;  and  in  an  instant  she 
would  be  sitting  up,  wide  awake  again. 

^•' Any  ting  de  matter,  massa?"  she  would  hear  Nick 
say. 

^•jSTo,  Nick.  But  speak  lower,  or  you  will  wake 
little  Walter.  Poor  fellow !  he  has  sobbed  himself  to 
sleep.  He's  an  early  student  'in  the  school  of  sorrow," 
was  the  reply  to  such  questionings. 

Since  his  arrival,  Walter  had  insisted  on  sleeping 
there  :  so  a  bed  was  made  for  him  in  one  corner ;  while 
Nick,  as  usual,  slept  on  his  mat  near  the  door.  After 
the  clock  strack  twelve,  Catharine,  tired  out  with  watch- 
ing, sunk  into  a  deep  slumber. 

From  this  she  was  awakened  by  a  dream  of  horror ; 
and,  starting  up  with  a  shriek,  she  found  her  room 
brightly  illumined,  and  her  bed  surrounded  by  a  band 
of  black,  fierce-looking  men.  Terror  froze  the  wild  cry 
upon  her  lips ;  and,  though  for  a  moment  it  seemed  but 
9 


98    THE  EEBEL  GEXEEAL'S  LOYAE  BEIDE. 

tlie  continuation  of  the  fantasy  of  her  dream,  the 
reality  soon  enough  forced  itself  upon  her  startled 
senses.  There  was  no  mistaking  those  lierce,  malig- 
nant, blackened  faces  for  any  her  imagination  had  con- 
jured up  ;  and  she  knew  very  soon  that  she  was  in  the 
presence  of  a  band  of  desperadoes. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   GUERILLAS. DEATH   OF   MAJOR   HUNTER. 

jTAND  back,  comrades,  or  you'll  scare  the 
gal  like  thunder!"  exclaimed  a  tall,  bony, 
grizzly-bearded  villain,  who  appeared  to  be 
the  leader  of  the  band,  "And  you,  miss," 
he  continued,  "jest  put  on  your  clothes,  and  pack  up 
your  duds,  and  get  ready  for  a  little  journey  to-night." 

Catharine  did  not  faint ;  but  she  sat  there,  dumb  and 
stupefied  with  terror,  like  one  bereft  of  her  senses.  Her 
eyes  were  wild  and  distended,  her  cheek  and  lips  pale 
as  marble ;  and  her  shining  auburn  hair  rippled  in 
heavy,  tangled  curls,  over  her  white  shoulders,  as  she 
gazed  upon  the  villanous  faces  around  her.  Secure  in 
their  villany,  the  men  soon  began  searching  for  valua- 
bles, and  at  last  opened  Jenny  the  slave-girl's  door. 

"  Hallo,  Blondel !  here's  a  likely  wench,  half-white, 
and  worth  six  hundred  any  day,"  said  one  of  the  gang. 
"  There !  get  up,  you  black  beauty,  and  help  your  mis- 
tress dress ; "  and  he  gave  her  a  kick  with  the  toe  of  his 
boot  that  roused  her  pretty  effectually. 

"Who  are  you  ?  and  what  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ?  " 
exclaimed  Catharine  tremblingly,  as  soon  as  she  could 
command  her  voice. 

99 


100      THE  EEBEL   GEXEEAL's   LOYAL   BEIDE. 

"You'll  find  out  soon  enough,  I  reckon.  All  you've 
got  to  du  is  to  submit,  and  do  as  I  tell  ye." 

"And  if  I  refuse!"  slie  exclaimed  with  flushed  cheek 
and  flashing  eyes. 

"  Tliis ! "  and  he  drew  a  glittering  howie  from  its 
sheath,  and  flashed  it  up  before  her  eyes. 

She  recoiled  instinctively;  and  her  lips  grew  white 
with  the  fear  that  now  assailed  her. 

"  Is  the  argyment  convincin'  ?  "  said  the  wretch  witli 
a  loud  laugh,  in  which  he  was  joined   by  the    others. 

"If  so,  dress  yourselves,  —  you  an'  that  gal,  — tie  up 
what  things  you  want  in  bundles,  and  march  down  stairs 
with  this  man  :  for  we've  other  work  to  do  ; "  and,  at  a 
sign  from  the  leader,  all  left  the  room  but  one,  —  a  dark, 
low-browed  villain  —  the  cruelest-looking  of  the  gang. 
He  had  previously  been  rifling  trunks,  drawers,  and 
closets  of  the  most  valuable  things,  comprising  nearly 
the  whole  of  Catharine's  wardrobe  and  iewelrv. 

Seeing  there  was  no  way  of  escape  but  death,  she 
roused  the  terrified  girl,  who  was  crouching  beside  her 
bed,  and  proceeded  tremblingly  to  do  as  he  required. 
Luckily  she  put  on  her  best  travelling-dress,  which  she 
had  taken  out  the  night  before,  in  antici2:)atiou  of  her  jour- 
ney to  Richmond;  and  in  the  waist  of  this  had  been 
stitched  most  of  her  readj^  mone}?",  which,  with  the  watch 
under  her  pillow,  that  she  managed  to  secrete,  and  a 
few  of  her  commonest  garments,  was  all  she  succeeded  in 
saving.  The  poor  girl  saved  a  few  articles,  the  man  all 
the  time  watching  them  griml}^,  and,  as  soon  as  they 
were  ready,  ordered  them  to  march. 

Just  as  they  emerged  into  the  upper  hall,  the}''  were 
met  by  a  volley  of  oaths,  and  angry  voices  :  the  major's 
door  was  burst  open ;    and  the  white-haired  old  man, 


THE  GUERILLAS.  101 

undressed  as  they  found  liim,  and  madiy  struggling  with 
his  captors,  was  dragged  out  and  down  tlie  staircase. 

He  was  followed  by  Nick,  and  poor  little  shrieking 
half-naked  Walter,  who  was  striking  right  and  left  with 
his  puny  fists,  yet  pleading  in  piteous  tones  for  mercy. 

"  Stop  yer  bawlin',  or  I'll  give  yer  a  settler,  you  young 
lion's  whelp  ! "  exclaimed  Blondel  fiercely.  "  I'll  teach 
ye  what  it  costs  to  despise  and  tyrannize  over  us  poor 
white  folks.  Mister  Major." 

"  We  have  never  wronged  you,  sir,  in  word  or  deed, 
that  I  know  of;  and  why  do  you  outrage  us  in  this 
way?  "  said  the  poor  old  major  tremulously. 

"Aha!  you  never  wronged  me,  —  did  ye?  —  and, 
through  me,  my  whole  class!  As  if  I  didn't  get  an 
honest  livin'  tradin'  with  the  niggers  till  you  come  to  the 
estate,  an'  broke  it  all  up  by  your  tarnal  Yankee  inven- 
tions." 

"  So  —  so  —  you  are  Blondel ;  are  you  ?  I  thought 
you  were  in  "  — 

"States  prison,  —  out  with  it.  No  thanks  to  you,  I 
wa'n't  in  for  life.  Wonderful  'fraid  you  was  of  havin' 
yer  nigs  cheated,  and  encouraged  to  steal,  and  trade  for 
knick-knacks  an'  whiskey  :  so  you  must  furnish  'em' every 
thing  to  home,  an'  spile  my  trade,  an'  blege  me  to  rob 
housen  to  get  a  livin' ;  an',  instead  of  whippin'  on  'em,  as 
they  desarved,  payin'  the  devilish  nigs  premiums  for 
their  smartness  an'  sassiness  :  an'  preachin'  an'  prayin' 
till  ye  shamed  all  the  planters  round.  But  we'll  teach 
ye  what  it  costs  to  fly  in  the  face  of  the  good  old  fash- 
ions, and  honester  men  than  you.  We'll  larn  ye  Yankee 
reforms  with  a  vengeance.  So  come  along,  you  old 
rebel!" 

"  My  God  !  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  me  ?    Hallo, 


102.  THE  EEBEL  GENEEAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

Sweep  !  Nick  !  Jerry !  Tom  !  Dinah  !  —  where  are  you 
all  ? ''  shrieked  the  wretched  old  man,  struggling  at 
every  step,  and  clutching  at  the  balusters  in  frantic 
eagerness. 

"  Here,  here,  massa  !  We'd  help  ye  if  we  could !  " 
shouted  iSick,  as  he  pressed  forward  eagerly.  But  his 
efforts  were  cut  short  by  a  dozen  eager  hands  clasping 
his  struggling  limbs,  and,  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts,  pitch- 
ing him  do-wn  stairs,  over  the  head  of  his  unfortunate 
master,  and  landing  him,  stunned  and  apparently  life- 
less, upon  the  marble  floor  of  the  hall. 

Catharine  and  the  slave-girl,  with  their  escort,  waited 
until  the  way  was  cleared,  and  then  descended.  Not- 
withstanding their  terror,  the  sight  that  met  their  gaze 
as  they  emerged  from  the  house  filled  them  with  curiosity 
and  wonder. 

In  front  of  the  mansion  a  large  fire  was  burning,  that 
cast  ruddy  gleams  upon  the  windows,  the  lofty  trees  that 
shadowed  it,  and  the  weird  figures  of  some  thirty  or  forty 
villanous-looking  men  who  surrounded  it ;  while  drawn 
up  on  the  spacious  lawn  before  the  door  were  some  half- 
dozen  of  the  major's  best  mule-teams,  already  loaded  with 
valuable  plunder.  Upon  the  tops  of  these  teams,  as  drivers, 
were  seated  some  of  the  smartest  negroes  belonging  to 
the  plantation.  Beside  each  wagon  sat  an  outlaw  upon 
one  of  the 'major's  best  horses,  revolver  in  hand,  ready 
to  fire  upon  the  least  symptom  of  disobedience.  At  a 
little  distance  the  poor  old  major  was  bound  to  a  tree, 
with  a  halter  around  his  neck  ;  while  poor  little  Walter 
was  clasping  his  knees,  and  sobbing  piteously. 

"  All  ready  ?  "  shouted  the  leader  to  the  guards  beside 
the  teams. 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir  ! "  was  the  ready  response. 


THE  GUERILLAS.  103 

"  Move  on,  tnen,  as  if  the  Devil  was  arter  ye,  as  I  s'pose 
he  is ;  and  don't  let  the  grass  grow  under  yer  hosses'  feet. 
Turn  off  from  the  road  where  I  bade  ye,  and  be  sure  you're 
out  of  the  way  of  pursuers  when  we  have  the  illumina- 
tion by  and  by." 

The  teams  moved  off  at  a  rapid  pace,  amid  the  cheers 
of  the  motley  crew,  just  as  Sweep,  followed  by  Dinah, 
Lidu,  Dell,  and  the  rest  of  the  house-servants,  rushed  out 
wildly  from  the  mansion. 

"  Good  God !  What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ?  "  he 
exclaimed. 

"  That's  a  good  one  !  I  guess  you  know  about;'as  well 
as  anybody,  you  long-legged  Yankee  snipe ! "  said  the 
leader  with  a  shout  of  laughter. 

"  What  should  I  know,  pray,  — just  roused  from  sleep 
as  I  am  by  your  hellish  noises  ?  '^  and  he  rubbed  his 
eyes  vigorously,  as  if  to  prove  his  assertion. 

"  Jest  hear  him,  you  old  skeleton,"  echoed  Blondel. 
"  He  wants  to  make  b'lieve  he's  innocent  as  a  lamb.  But 
you'll  find  out,  the  minit  you  get  to  t'other  world,  you've 
been  harborin'  a  jackal.  Tell  old  Beelzebub  he's  comin' 
fast  as  time  can  carry  him." 

"  Good  heavens !  You  here,  major,  —  and  in  that  con- 
dition ?  And  you  too,  Miss  Kate  ? "  turning  to  her, 
pretending  not  to  hear  what  Blondel  said.  "  Wretches  ! 
what  are  you  about  to  do  to  that  white-haired  old  man? 
Unbind  him  instantly !  Here,  Tom,  Nick,  Harry,  run 
to  the  quarters,  —  rouse  the  niggers  and  dogs.  We'll 
see  who  is  master  here  ! "  he  eagerly  exclaimed,  as  he 
opened  his  jack-knife,  and  ran  towards  the  major  as  if  to 
release  him.  But  a  hand  was  laid  on  his  arm,  in  which 
a  knife  glittered,  and  a  voice  hissed  in  his  ear,  — 

"  Look  out,  or  you'll  go  too  far,  you  lyin'  scoundrel.    We 


104   THE  EEBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

come  to  du  our  part  of  the  work,  jest  as  we  'greed  ;  but  you 
ain't  done  your'u.  You've  liid  the  gold  an'  silver,  an'  then 
come  out  to  us  with  a  lie  in  yer  mouth,  pretendin'  'twas 
all  sent  off  to  Washinton.  Then  you  dodge  back  inter 
the  house  to  cut  up  some  prank,  an'  come  out  with  a 
mouthfal  of  lies  to  deceive  an'  cheat  the  poor  old  fool 
who's  harbored  an'  b'lieved  in  ye  so  long.  But  I  don't 
b'lieve  in  one  lie  more  than  in.  t'other ;  and  if  you  don't 
bring  forrard  the  proofs,  man,  you,  tu,  shall  swing  at  the 
end  of  a  rope." 

The  overseer  turned  pale  as  death.  Once  or  twice  he 
opened  his  lips  to  speak  to  prevent  Blondel  from  expos- 
ing him,  but  could  utter  no  sound.  For  the  first  time 
he  began  to  realize  that  he  had  been  playing  with  edged 
tools  to  work  out  Jiis  dishonest  piu-poses,  that  were  now 
to  be  turned  against  himself,  and  that  his  hypocrisy 
would  avail  him  nothing.  "  I  did  tell  ye  the  truth,"  he 
said  at  last  tremblingly ;  ''  and  j^ou  solemnly''  promised 
not  to  have  me  known  in  the  affair.  You  ain't  done  as 
you  agreed." 

"  I  should,  if  the  gold  had  been  forthcoming  ;  and  I'd 
divided  it  fair.  You  might  lied  yourself  out  of  it  as 
much  as  you  pleased.  Bring  that  forrard,  an'  I  still  hold 
to  my  side  of  the  bargain.  If  not,  the  gals  and  nigs  are 
our'n,  with  all  the  plunder ;  the  house  burns,  an'  you 
swing  at  the  little  end  of  nothin'." 

"  I  can't  bring  it  forrard :  I  ain't  got  it !  "  screamed 
the  frightened  wretch,  with  his  teeth  chattering  with 
terror.  "  I  didn't  know  as  'twas  gone  till  to-night :  the 
major  and  Miss  Kate  will  tell  ye  so  tu." 

"  Is  that  true  ?  "  said  Blondel,  turning  to  the  major. 
He  received  no  rejDly ;  for  the  wretched  old  man,  overcome 
with  weakness  and  terror,  had  fainted,  with  his  head  fallen 
forward  upon  his  bosom. 


THE  GUERILLAS.  105 

"  He's  got  a  fit,  captin  !  "  exclaimed  one  of  the  merci- 
less crew. 

"  No,  no :  lie's  on'y  shammin'.  Jest  give  liim  the  licks, 
Blondel ;  and  you'll  bring  him  to  his  senses,"  echoed 
another. 

"  Well  thought  of,  Cooper.  Pass  along  the  cat,  Eing : 
we'll  wake  up  the  old  scoundrel." 

Poor  little  Walter  heard  the  cruel  words  as  he  lay  thero 
upon  the  groimd  sobbing  ;  and,  rising  with  a  wild  shriek, 
he  encircled  his  dear  old  father  with  his  feeble  arms. 

"  Aha,  my  fine  young  game-cock  !  You've  got  too 
much  flash  in  your  eye  to  stan'  there  an'  take  the  licks 
when  ye  begin  to  feel  'em.  But  ye  can  du  as  ye  like 
about  it." 

The  blow  that  descended  upon  the  poor  child's  bare  and 
defenceless  shoulders  also  drew  blood  and  groans  from  the 
wretched  father.  But  the  barbarian  was  right:  there 
was  too  much  flash  in  the  boy's  eye,  and  spirit  in  his 
sold,  to  bear  such  indignity  unavenged.  Springing  with 
the  agility  of  a  squirrel  and  the  fierceness  of  a  young  lion, 
with  his  face  aflame  and  his  eyes  flashing,  he  caught  a 
knife  from  the  villain's  belt,  and  would  have  sheathed  it 
in  his  heart,  had  he  not  seen  and  caught  the  blow  with 
his  left  hand. 

"  So,  so,  you  little  devil !  You  have  got  the  snap  in 
ye ;  ain't  ye  ?  "  he  exclaimed  with  a  frightful  oath.  "  Here, 
some  on  ye  bind  up  this  ugly  cut  with  my  han'kercher, 
and  hold  this  young  tiger-cub  till  I  can  finish  that  busi- 
ness. I'd  whip  the  devil  out  of  him,  tu,  if  I  had  the 
time." 

When  all  was  ready,  the  villain  again  took  the  cat,  and 
was  preparing  to  strike,  when  the  wretched  and  writhing 
old  man  began  in  piteous  tones  pleading  for  mercy. 


106      THE  EEBEL  GE:JTERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"  What  is  it  you  want  ?  "  he  groaned.  "  Take  all  I 
have,  but  do  not,  I  entreat  of  you,  treat  me  with  such  in- 
dignity." 

"  Did  you  never  have  a  white  man  or  a  nigger  treated 
so,  you  old  tyrant  ?  I  mean  you  shall  feel  what  I  have 
felt  more  than  once,  through  your  means,  before  I  swing 
you  off.  But  tell  me,  first,  what  has  become  of  your  plate, 
jewels,  and  money." 

"  If  I  am  to  die,  you  shall  never  know  from  my  lips," 
said  the  major  firmly. 

'^For  God's  sake,  du  tell,  major,  or  they'll  kill  me 
tu,"  snivelled  Sweep  in  pleading  tones.  "They  won't 
b'lieve  me  ;  and  it's  tu  bad  to  have  to  die  for  other  folks' 
duin's." 

''Hannibal  Sweep,  do  you  deserve  to  live?  My 
senses  deceive  me,  or  you  have  been  plotting  to  betray 
me,  and  all  I  have,  to  those  bloodthirsty  men." 

"  No,  no,  major :  I  never  meant  to  betray  you.  It  all 
comes  from  a  little  misun-derstandin'.  So  pray  du  tell 
'em  what  they  want  to  kn^ow." 

'•  And  I  say,  yes ! "  echoed  Blondel.  "  True,  he 
didn't  bargain  for  my  private  vengeance  ;  but  he  did  for 
the  plunder  and  the  nigs  and  the  gal,  if  she  scorned 
him.  And  he  it  was  who  shut  up  the  mouths  of  yer 
yelpin'  curs,  dosed  all  yer  nigs  with  drugged  whiskey,  — 
on'y  them  we  wanted,  —  left  all  yer  doors  ajar,  stole  yer 
gold,  an'  silver,  an'  then  came  out  with  a  lie  in  his 
mouth,  —  for  which  he,  tu,  has  got  to  swing.  Here, 
fix  a  rope  round  his  neck,  boys,  an'  tie  him  to  that  tree 
for  a  preparatory  lecture ;  for,  as  sure  as  fate,  we'U  send 
a  pair  of  the  pretty  birds  to  glory." 

"  Help  !  help  !  murder !  "  screamed  the  frightened 
wretch,  struggling  madly  with  his  captors  as  they  pro- 


THE  GUERILLAS.  107 

ceedod  to  fix  tKo  fatal  noose.  "Oh,  I  can't  die!  I  ain't 
at  to  die  !  Major  Hunter !  Miss  Kate  !  0  Miss  Catha- 
rine !  for  God's  sake,  pity  and  save  me  ! ''  he  shrieked. 

Little  reason  as  she  had  to  pity  and  save,  Catharine 
could  not  resist  this  wild  appeal.  So,  stepping  forward, 
trembling  in  every  limb,  she  exclaimed,  "It  is  the  truth 
he  tells  ;  and  this  very  night  I  heard  it  from  the  major's 
own  lips." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  echoed  the  major  at  length.  "  The  ras- 
cal deserves  no  mercy  at  my  hands ;  but  let  him  live  — 
to  repent.  I  did  send  all  my  treasures  to  Washington 
to  save  them  from  such  rapacious  wretches  as  you.  But 
spare  us  all,  and  you  shall  have  the  whole  of  them." 

"'  And  be  cheated  of  my  vengeance  !  ISTo,  no  :  that  is 
dearer  than  gold  to  me.  You  can  have  all  the  plunder, 
boys.  My  part  shall  be  a  sweet  revenge.  Now,  some 
of  you  go  and  set  fire  to  that  old  rookery ;  while  you. 
Cooper,  give  that  snivelling  scamp  a  dozen  for  his 
knavishness,  and  then  untie,  and  kick  him  out  of  my 
presence." 

In  spite  of  Sweep's  shrieks,  both  orders  were  instantly 
obeyed. 

"And  now,"  he  said,  turning  back  to  Major  Hunter, 
"prepare  to  take  what  you  have  deserved  this  many  a 
year !  "  and,  drawing  the  sharp,  cutting  thongs  of  raw- 
hide through  his  fingers,  he  glared  upon  his  doomed 
victim  with  the  ferocity  of  a  fiend. 

Brave  as  a  lion  in  battle  in  his  younger  days,  and 
ready,  even  now,  to  fight  till  his  last  breath,  if  his  hands 
were  free,  the  poor  old  man's  heart  sunk  within  him  at 
the  thought  of  such  an  ignominious  end. 

"  Oil !  is  there  nothing  I  can  say  or  do  to  prevent 
this  horrible  outrage  ?  "  he  groaned. 


108      THE  REBEL  GENERAL's   LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"Aha!"  laughed  the  villain.  "An  outrage,  is  it, 
upon  your  boasted  chivalry  !  An  outrage  upon  your 
rich  aristocracy  !  But  none  at  all  upon  me,  a  man  as 
white  as  yourself,  who  was  whipped  within  an  inch  of 
my  life  through  your  means,  and  then  sent  to  the  chains 
and  stripes  and  ignominy  of  the  State's  prison ! "  and, 
with  a  face  fairly  fiendish  with  evil  passions,  he  raised 
his  vengeful  arm ;  and  tlie  blows  descended  until  Catha- 
rine, forgetful  of  her  own  danger,  rushed  frantically  for- 
ward in  a  vain  attempt  to  save  the  major's  life.  There 
was  a  *flash,  a  loud  report,  and  a  rifle-ball  whizzed 
through  her  bonnet  and  raised  left  hand,  cutting  the 
vein!^3  upon  her  temple,  and  stunning  her  so  that  she  fell 
forward  to  the  earth  nearly  senseless. 

"What  did  you  do  that  for,  Sharpe  ?  "  exclaimed 
Blondel,  turning  to  him  fiercely.     ^'  The  gal's  mine." 

"I  jest  obeyed  orders,  that's  all." 

"  Ah !  I  remember.  Take  her  away,  some  on  ye  ; " 
and  again  the  blows  descended. 

But  we  sicken  of  the  horrible  details  of  a  scene  that 
was  but  one  out  of  hundreds  that  were  being  enacted 
through  the  South  at  that  time.  We  will  only  say  in 
conclusion,  that,  when  the  poor  old  man  was  insensible 
to  pain  and  indignity,  he  was  strung  up  by  the  neck 
until  life  was  ended;  and  that  poor  Walter  screamed 
and  struggled  and  implored  until  he  wore  out  the 
patience  of  his  keeper,  who  then  struck  him  down 
senseless  with  a  heavy  club,  and  left  him,  supposing  him 
dead.  Catharine,  meantime,  dragged  out  from  under 
foot,  revived,  and,  her  wounds  bound  up  by  the  pitying 
slaves,  was  standing  at  a  little  distance,  trying  to  avert 
her  horrified  gaze,  and  shut  out  the  awful  sights  and 
sounds  from  her  keenly- aroused  senses.     Every  groan, 


DEATH  OF   MAJOR  HUNTER.  109 

and  every  stroke  of  the  whip,  cut  to  her  heart  like  a 
knife,  until  she  was  glad  when  the  poor  victim's  suffer- 
ings were  over.  By  this  time  a  cloud  of  dark,  friglit* 
cued  faces  began  to  gather  upon  the  outskirts  of  the 
scene,  roused  by  the  thunderous  din :  but  the  true 
hearts  and  strong  arms  upon  which  the  master  had  re- 
lied were  palsied  and  stupefied  with  drugged  liquor; 
while  many  of  their  comrades  were  still  dead-drunk  in 
the  cabins.  The  overseer  had  indeed  done  his  work 
well,  — much  better,  in  fact,  than  he  anticipated.  Know- 
ing there  were  some  disaffected  spirits  in  tlie  slave- 
gang,  he  had  for  some  time  been  tampering  with  them, 
and  promising  tliera  freedom  ;  so  they  proved  willing 
tools  in  his  hands  to  work  out  his  own  dishonest  pur- 
poses. But,  though  Sweep  was  villain  enough  to  plan, 
assist,  and  share  in  this  raid  and  robbery  of  the  major's 
property,  he  had  never  dreamed  of  their  burning  his 
buildings,  outraging  his  person,  or  taking  his  life. 
He  had  thought  to  share  a  large  sum  for  the  night's 
work,  get  Catharine  into  his  power,  if  she  otherwise  re- 
fused liim,  and  still  retain  his  place  at  a  large  salary, 
until  such  time  as  he  could  make  off  in  safety  with  his 
plunder.  As  to  Catliarine's  destinj^,  he  had  not  yet 
fully  dc'cided.  For,  accustomed  all  his  life  to  rate  every 
thing  at  a  money  value,  her  refusal,  after  hearing  of 
his  wealth,  had  so  surprised  and  angered  him,  tliat  a 
desire  for  revenge  now  ruled  him  quite  as  mu-jh  as 
any  fancy  he  had  ever  felt  for  her.  But,  in  thinking 
and  doing  all  this,  he  had  wrought  a  just  retribution 
on  himself.  For  all  his  papers,  clothing,  and  money  — 
the  hoarded  gains  of  the  past  three  years  —  were  in 
the  burning  dwelling.  The  feelings  of  such  a  man  may 
be  imagined,  as  he  looked  back,  smjarting  \vith  pain,  and 
10 


110      THE  EEBEL  GEXEEAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

burning  with  anger  and  sliame,  after  gaining  a  secure 
hiding-place.  To  see  the  flames  beginning  to  pour  from 
the  lower  windows,  and  know  that  his  gold,  more  than 
half  of  which  had  been  surreptitiously  obtained,  was 
to  be  sacrificed  to  his  dishonest  rapacity,  was  more  than 
his  avaricious  nature  could  bear.  Gold  was  the  idol  of 
his  worship :  he  could  not  endure  the  thought  of  losing 
it;  so,  in  spite  of  the  double  danger,  he  resolved  to 
make  one  effort  to  secure  it.  The  band  of  outlaws  were 
in  front  of  the  house,  busy  with  their  nefarious  work; 
while  he  had  got  round  in  the  rear  of  the  long  line  of 
slave-cabins  at  the  left.  By  crossing  the  large  orchard 
and  kitchen-garden,  he  thought  he  could  gain  the  rear 
entrance  unperceived.  There  seemed  to  be  no  fire 
there  as  yet ;  so  he  thought  he  could  go  up  the  back 
staircase  to  his  room,  and  regain  his  treasure  with  little 
danger.  All  this  he  stealthily  accomplished  to  his  per- 
fect satisfaction.  He  gained  his  room,  secured  his  valu- 
ables, and  was  upon  the  landing  with  his  best  suit 
thrown  over  his  arm,  when,  to  his  horror,  his  egress  was 
cut  off  by  an  unexpected  obstacle. 

But  sly  and  stealthy  as  had  been  his  approach,  it 
had  not  been  wholly  unperceived ;  for  Uncle  Nick,  the 
major's  valet,  though  stunned,  was  not  killed  by  his 
fall  over  the  balusters,  but  subsequently  revived,  and 
crawled  out,  bruised  and  bleeding,  to  be  a  vengeful  wit- 
ness of  deeds  that  set  his  blood  aflame  with  the  fires  of 
vengeance.  His  clear  intellect  at  once  comprehended 
the  facts.  He  knew,  from  what  he  had  gathered  from 
the  slaves  as  well  as  their  dj^ing  master,  that  they  had 
been  betrayed  by  the  wily  overseer,  whom  they  all 
hated.  Nick  would  almost  have  laid  down  his  life  for 
bis  master;  but  what  could  he  and  the  few  sober  slaves 


DEATH  OF  INIAJOR  HUNTER.  Ill 

do,  unarmed,  against  thirty  or  forty  bloodthirsty  despe- 
radoes armed  to  the  teeth  ?  As  he  could  not  look  on 
coolly  and  see  his  master  and  darling  little  Walter  mur- 
dered, he  crawled  off  to  the  slave-cabins,  roused  a  few- 
old  men  and  women,  and  armed  them  with  clubs  and 
pitchforks.  They  were  just  coming  up  to  the  rear  of 
the  house,  undecided  as  to  what  they  could  do,  when 
they  saw  Sweep  stealthily  enter  it. 

"Dere,  dere  he  go,  de  ole  Satan  dat  make  all  de 
mischief ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  He  goin'  to  get  de  gold  an' 
tings :  dat's  what  he  arter.  Now,  boys,  we  got  'im  in  a 
trap,"  he  whispered  in  clear,  sharp  tones.  "You  gals  sly 
in,  an'  brung  out  all  ye  can  o'  mistress's  tings,  dat  de 
rogues  dun  left  to  burn  up  ;  while  we  boys  fotch  de  fag- 
its,  an'  smoke  out  de  ole  coon." 

The  order  was  instantly  obeyed :  those  who  dared 
rushed  in,  and,  in  defiance  of  the  stifling  smoke,  saved  a 
great  many  useful  articles  of  furniture ;  while  ISTiek  and 
the  men  seized  great  bundles  of  fagots  and  shavings, 
piled  them  in  the  stairway,  and,  when  they  thought 
Sweep  was  about  to  descend,  with  burning  brands  s<:'t 
fire  to  them  in  a  dozen  places.  Dry  as  tinder,  the  fire 
caught  them  with  devouring  fury,  and  roared  up  the 
narrow  staircase  in  a  fierce  column  of  seething  flame, 
instantly  cutting  off  all  egress  in  that  direction. 

Met  by  the  stifling  smoke  and  roaring  flames,  Sweep 
knew  at  once  that  he  had  enemies  in  the  rear  as  well  as 
in  front  of  him.  But,  knowing  that  the  one  within  was 
more  to  be  dreaded  than  either,  he  rushed  back  through 
the  upper  hall,  breathless,  gasping,  and  despairing,  to 
find  the  magnificent  front  staircase  one  mass  of  smoul- 
dering ruins,  into  which,  blinded  by  the  smoke  and 
stifling  heat,  he  came  very  near  plunging  headlong.     He 


112      THE  REBEL   GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

knew  there  was  but  one  other  mode  of  egress  ;  so,  rush- 
ing back  to  his  room,  with  his  hat  gone,  his  hair  singed 
off,  his  clotlies  smouldering,  lie  opened  a  window,  and 
looked  down  upon  the  deptlis  below.  It  was  the  end  of 
the  building,  and  no  one  was  there.  There  was  no 
alternative  but  to  leap  from  the  window  with  a  bare  pos- 
sibility of  escape,  or  to  meet  sure  and  certain  death  by 
the  flames.  Fanned  by  the  draught  from  the  window, 
the  fire  was  fast  approaching:  yet,  cautious  to  the  last, 
he  waited  to  tear  his  bedclothes  into  strips,  tie  them  to- 
gether and  to  the  bed-post;  and  then,  with  his  frail 
rope,  he  attempted  to  descend. 

But  alas  for  the  miserable  man  !  just  as  he  got 
cleverly  out  of  the  window,  and  was  hanging  by  the  sill, 
the  outlaws  discovered  him.  For  having  finished  their 
"work  of  destruction,  and  fearing  the  light  of  the  fire 
would  bring  some  government  patrolling  party  upon 
them,  they  hunted  up  Catharine,  and  a  few  of  the  best- 
looking  female  slaves,  placed  them  in  a  baggage-wagon 
that  was  in  waiting,  got  in  themselves,  or  mounted  their 
horses,  and  were  driving  swiftly  awa}^  But  Blondel,  the 
leader  of  the  gang,  who  sat  on  the  back  seat  beside 
Catharine,  happeniug  to  look  back,  discovered  poor 
Sweep  just  in  the  act  of  descending. 

"Aha,  Cooper,  stop  a  minute  !  Just  look  there!  "he 
exclaimed.  "I'll  bet  you  a  hundred  dollars  that  it's  that 
scoundrelly  overseer.  He  couldn't  quit  with  a  whole 
skin,  but  went  back  after  the  plunder.  By  Jove  !  I'll 
give  him  one  parting  salute ;  and,  raising  his  rifle  at  a 
venture,  just  over  Catharine's  head,  he  fired. 

The  mules  jumped  and  ran,  coming  very  near  up- 
setting the  wagon  ;  while  Blondel  dropped  into  his  seat 
with  a  loud  laugh,  exclaiming,  "There,  if  that  don't 
finish  him,  the  cuss  is  hard  to  kill." 


DEATH  OF  MAJOR  HUNTER.  113 

Catharine,  meantime,  had  made  one  attempt  to  escape 
since  she  fully  recovered  consciousness,  but  was  dis- 
covered, brought  back,  and  a  guard  set  over  her  by 
Blondel,  until  he  finished  his  fiendish  work;  and  then, 
forced  into  the  wagon  at  the  point  of  the  knife,  with 
the  poor  unresisting  slave-girls,  she  felt  as  if  it  were  in 
vain  to  try  to  escape,  even  though  her  hands,  in  con- 
sideration of  her  wounds,  unlike  the  others,  were  tied  in 
front  instead  of  behind  her.  This  was  some  relief;  but 
the  thongs  cut  into  her  tender  flesh,  as  it  swelled  rapidly ; 
and  her  wounds  pained  her  very  severely. 

The  road  that  crossed  the  great  Hunter  plantation 
was  not  a  public  one ;  but  it  intersected  the  great  North- 
ern pike  a  mile  or  more  from  the  mansion.  This  it  was 
necessary  for  the  outlaws  to  reach,  and  follow  for  a  while, 
before  dispersing  into  the  by-paths  that  led  to  their 
mountain  rendezvous.  Some  had  come  on  horseback, 
and  some  on  foot ;  but  all  were  now  well  mounted  upon 
the  major  s  fine  stud.  ELated  by  the  generous  Hquors 
they  had  found  in  the  cellar,  and  by  the  success  of 
their  enterprise,  they  cantered  off  with  buffaloes  and 
blankets  for  saddles,  and  in  the  highest  possible  spirits. 
It  was  after  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  as  they  de- 
bouched upon  the  main  thoroughfare.  A  beautiful  sum- 
mer day  was  dawning  in  the  east.  The  birds  were 
singing  in  the  tree-tops,  and  the  flowers  were  blooming 
all  around  them,  filling  the  pure  morning  air  with  sweet 
perfumes  ;  while  every  thing  in  nature  looked  as  lovely 
as  if  no  deeds  of  horror  were  ever  enacted  ;  yet  afar 
upon  the  hill-top  the  flames  still  towered  up  grandly  to 
the  sky,  tingeing  the  passing  clouds  with  ruddy  and 
golden  tints,  and  gloriously  lighting  up  the  magnificent 
landscape. 

10* 


114      THE  BEBEL  GENEEAl's  LOYAL  BBIDE. 

"  Kow,  boys,  ride  for  3'our  lives  ! "  exclaimed  Blondel, 
as  they  emerged  from  the  fine  arched  gateway. 

"  We  are  two  hours  later  than  we  ought  to  be  upon 
this  piece  of  road  :  we  shall  be  safer  from  the  patrols  if 
we  separate.  You,  Cooper  and  Baker,  Hines  and  Mo 
Caffrey,  stay  with  me  to  guard  the  prisoners  ;  and  the 
rest  on  ye  ride  like  the  deuce." 

The  order  was  instantly  obeyed ;  and  very  soon  a  great 
cloud  of  dust  was  all  that  could  be  seen  of  the  party  of 
horsemen.  The  sruards  fell  back  behind  the  heavy  mule- 
wagon,  in  which  were  seated  the  four  captives,  witli  the 
driver  and  Blondel,  both  heavily  armed  and  keenly 
watchful. 

As  soon  as  it  was  light  enough,  Catharine  knew  that 
Blondel,  who  was  an  ugly-looking,  grizzly,  low-browed 
villain,  was  closely  scanning  her  looks  and  appearance. 
She  shrank  instinctively  from  the  peculiarly-repulsive 
and  snaky  glitter  of  his  eyes,  as  she  met  them  furtively, 
and  shivered  with  dread,  as  he  turned  and  said  to  the 
driver,  "  That  rascally  overseer  had  devilish  good  taste  ; 
hadn't  he  ?  It  won't  hurt  my  conscience  a  bit  to  step 
inter  his  shews.  What  say  ye,  gal  ?  "  and  he  turned  to 
Catharine  :  "  hadn't  you  ruther  clean  my  cabin,  cook  my 
grub,  and  dance  to  my  music,  than  du  the  like  for  that 
lyin'  rascal,  Sweep  ?  '^ 

A  shudder  and  repressed  sob  were  his  only  reply. 

"  You  see,"  he  continued  quite  confidentially,  "  that 
my  old  woman  scattered  the  young  ones,  and  went  off 
with  another  feller,  while  I  was  up  there  to  work  for 
Old  Virginia  ;  and  somehow  it's  never  come  handy  to  get 
another.  X ow,  by  Jupiter !  one's  come  right  inter  my 
hands  that  I  like  the  looks  on ; "  and  he  gave  her  a  sly 
wink  of  his  wicked  gray  eye.    "  You  sha'n't  be  sorry  for't, 


DEATH  OF  MAJOR   HUNTER.  115 

nutlior.  I'll  dress  you  up  as  fine  as  a  peacock.  Come, 
what  du  you  say?  Will  it  suit  ye?"  and  he  put  his 
brawny  arm  around  her  very  lovingly. 

A  shudder  of  horror  and  repulsion  shook  her ;  but  she 
was  saved  the  trouble  of  angering  hira  by  a  reply ;  for 
at  that  moment  the  sharp  click  of  steel-clad  hoofs,  and 
the  sound  of  voices  in  the  distance,  struck  upon  the  ears 
of  the  guard;  and  "The  patrols!  The  patrols!  a 
host  of  them  !  "  was  echoed  from  every  lip. 

"  The  devil  they  are  !  "  exclaimed  Blondel.  "  But 
where  are  all  our  men  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  see  ?  They've  got  safe  round  the  turn, 
with  the  woods  in  their  rear." 

"  Thank  fortin  for  that !  But  how  in  hell  are  we  to 
get  out  of  sight  ?  It  can't  be  did ;  so  we've  got  to  face 
the  music.  Here,  you  wimin !  you're  my  runaway 
slaves,  you  remember.  An'  if  you  say  one  word  agin  it, 
I  put  this  knife  through  your  hearts  ;  "  and  he  flourished 
the  glittering  weapon  up  before  their  terrified  eyes. 

"  ISfow,  boys,  keep  behind ;  and,  if  you  can't  du  any 
better,  you're  goin'  up  to  camp  to  enlist.  But  mind,  and 
all  tell  the  same  story.  In  any  case,  we  don't  belong  to 
the  same  gang." 

"By  thunder!  I'll  not  resk  it,"  exclaimed  Cooper. 
"  You  forget  that  we're  all  as  black  as  the  ace  of  spades, 
and  no  chance  to  wash  it  off.  We  must  take  to  the  woods ; 
and  let  you  who's  not  mounted  du  the  best  you  can." 
And,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he  leaped  the  low 
fence  that  skirted  the  road,  followed  by  his  companions ; 
and  they  were  soon  lost  to  sight  in  the  woods. 

After  a  moment's  hesitation,  Blondel  took  up  the  skirt 
of  his  dingy  coat,  and,  holding  do\vn  his  face,  gave  it  a 
thorough  scrubbing;  polishing  off  by  a  dirty  handker- 


116   THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

chief  wet  from  his  brandy-flask,  until  it  resembled  a 
huge  pickled  beet.  His  hasty  toilet  was  completed  not 
a  minute  too  soon. 

"  Now,  hurry  up,  Hoffman,"  he  said,  "  and  show  'em  we 
ain't  afraid  to  meet  'em.  And  remember,  you're  my  nig- 
ger-driver, and  must  swear  to  the  truth  of  every  word  I 
say." 

"  Ay,  ay,  captin  :  I  understand ;  and  it's  neck  or  noth- 
ing this  time,  I'll  be  bound  to  say.  But  you  know  I'm 
up  to  all  the  dodges ;  and  we'll  get  off  if  we  possibly  can." 

The  words  were  hardly  out  of  his  mouth  before  they 
met  the  advance-guard  of  the  on-coming  train.  They 
proved  to  be  an  officer's  guard  in  front,  followed  by  their 
superiors,  with  a  long  train  of  baggage  and  foraging 
wagons  in  the  rear. 

"  Hallo,  there  !  Halt !  Who  are  you  ?  "  was  the  polite 
salutation. 

"  Peaceable  citizens,  taking  home  a  gang  of  runaway 
slaves,"  returned  Blondel,  in  a  brusk,  assured  tone. 
*'  Turn  out  there  Jake,  and  let  the  troops  go  by." 

"  So,  so  !  But  what  ails  that  one  beside  you  with  the 
white  skin,  and  the  bloody  rag  round  her  head  ?  " 

"Brought  her  down  with  a  crack  of  the  bull-dogs,  jest 
as  she  was  makin'  off:  she's  the  sassiest  of  the  whole 
lot,  as  white  wenches  always  be." 

Catharine's  heart  beat  as  if  it  would  burst  her  bod- 
ice. Must  she  sit  there  passive,  and  see  her  last  chance 
for  escape  go  by  ?  She  raised  her  eyes  and  bloody,  man- 
acled hands,  and  impulsivelj''  opened  her  lips  to  speak. 
But  a  warning  gesture  and  glance  from  the  blazing  ej-es 
of  Blondel,  who  was  nervously  playing  with  the  hilt  of 
his  bowie,  froze  the  half-formed  words  upon  her  lips,  and 
prevented  their  utterance. 


DEATH  OP  ]SIAJOR  HUNTER.  117 

" Drive  on  now,  Jake,"  he  said,  —  "a  little  furder  to 
the  right.     The  troop  can  go  by  now,  if  tlicy  want  tu." 

"  No  :  halt !  What's  the  meaning  of  that  fire  off 
there  upon  the  hills  yonder  ?  " 

"  Dunno.  "We've  bin  watchin'  on't  this  long  time, 
and  spect  it's  some  house  burnin'.  We  see  a  gang  of  fel- 
lers come  from  tliat  way,  and  go  off  there  into  the  woods, 
that  we  reckoned  might  know  somethin'  'bout  it ;  "  and 
he  pointed  in  the  direction  his  troop  had  not  taken  to 
divert  pursuit. 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  old  chap's  story?"  said 
the  sergeant,  turning  to  the  officers.  "  Shall  we  let  him 
pass  on  ?  " 

"  It  may  all  be  true,  but  I  have  my  doubts,"  said  a 
voice  that  made  Catharine  start.  "That  is  certainly 
Hunter  House  burning  off  there  upon  the  hills ;  and  these 
may  be  some  of  the  Hunter  slaves  they're  running  off 
in  the  nieUeP 

The  officers  and  guard  now  drew  up  beside  the  road,  a 
little  way  in  front  of  Blondel ;  and  the  baggage  and  for- 
aging wagons  passed  on. 

Blondel  uttered  a  frightful  oath  below  his  breath. 
"  Don't  you  see  we're  in  a  trap,  Hoffman  ?  "  he  whispered. 
"  How  I  long  to  put  this  knife  through  that  rascal's 
heart ! " 

"  Yes,  yes :  but  play  spooney  as  long  as  you  can. 
It's  our  only  chance." 

The  officers  now  rode  up  beside  the  wagon,  when 
Blondel  cunningly  leaned  forward,  and  spread  himself 
all  he  could,  to  shield  Catharine  from  their  observation. 
But  this  movement,  as  it  proved,  defeated  itself,  as,  in 
doing  so,  he  partially  turned  his  back  to  her. 

Quick  as  thought,  she  raised  her  manacled  hands,  re- 


118      THE  BEBEL  GENEEAL's  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

moved  her  torn  and  bloody  veil,  and  pushed  the  bandage 
up  from  her  eyes,  resolving  to  dare  death  now,  ratlier 
than  lose  this  opportunity  for  escape-:  for  it  was  Col. 
Atherton's  voice  she  had  heard ;  and,  though  he  was  not 
the  one  she  would  have  chosen  for  a  protector,  she  felt 
as  if  he  would  not  see  her  wronged. 

"  So  you  have  runaway  slaves ;  have  you,  my  man  ?  " 
said  the  colonel  in  his  quick,  decided  way.  "Where 
did  you  take  them,  sir  ?  '^ 

"  Oh  !  down  here,  tliirty  miles  or  so.  A  friend  of 
mine  knew  and  nabbed  'em,  and  sent  me  word." 

"And  where  do  you  belong,  sir  ? '^ 

"  Oh  !  up  here  a  piece,  —  a  few  miles  above." 

"  Up  above  and  down  below :  that's  definite,  at  any 
rat«.  But  is  it  the  truth,  girl  ? "  he  said  to  the  one 
nearest  him.  She  answered  only  by  a  sob,  so  strong 
was  the  fear  of  the  glittering  knife  at  her  back. 

"Why  d'ye  ask  her,  yer  honor?  You  know  they'll 
all  lie  sooner  than  speak  the  truth.  Pray  let  us  drive 
on :  it's  gettin'  hot,  and  we've  a  long  road  to  travel." 

"Well,  your  gang  seem  to  have  gone  the  wrong  way 
for  runaways  :  they  generally  go  due  north." 

"  The  fools  got  their  heads  turned,  that's  all,"  said 
Blondel  with  a  laugh  ;  in  which  he  was  joined  by  Hoff- 
man. 

"Any  way,  we  have  no  more  time  for  parley,"  said 
Col.  Atherton  anxiously ;  "  for  I  am  bound  to  know  the 
meaning  of  that  fire  up  yonder.  I  have  friends  at 
Hunter  House  I  would  not  see  harmed  for  worlds.  I 
designed  calling  on  my  return  ;  but,  as  it  is,  I  think  I 
will  do  so  now.     You  may  pass  on,  sir." 

Catharine's  heart  sunk  like  lead  in  her  bosom :  her 
face  grew  pale  as  marble  at  the  thought  of  death  or  the 


DEATH  OF  MAJOR   HUNTER.  119 

jhir  worse  fate  that  wretch  had  in  store  for  her;  but  she 
made  her  choice.  Kising  noiselessly  to  her  feet,  she 
looked  up  at  Col.  Atherton,  then  down  atBlondel ;  shook 
her  head  ominously,  and  then  sank  back  into  her  seat 
acrain  without  his  knowini:^  she  had  risen  at  all. 

The  effect  was  electrical.  Had  an  apparition  appeared 
before  the  eyes  of  the  officers,  they  could  not  have  been 
more  startled  or  surprised.  For  Catharine's  manacled 
and  bloody  hands  raised  in  mute  supplication,  her 
wild,  imploring  eyes,  her  bandaged  head,  aud  pallid  yet 
beautiful  face,  down  which  the  blood  was  trickling, 
touched  every  chord  of  human  sympathy  in  their  bosoms. 

In  spite  of  her  horrid  appearance,  and  the  blood  and 
dirt,  and  disorder  of  her  apparel,  Col.  Atherton  knew 
her  at  once.  Whispering  an  order  to  an  attendant,  he 
dashed  round  upon  the  opposite  side  of  the  wagon,  and 
exclaimed,  as  he  tenderly  took  her  wounded  hands  in 
his, — 

"  My  God,  Catharine  !  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  " 

"  This !  '^  echoed  Blondel  fiercely,  as  he  pointed  and 
attempted  to  fire  his  revolver  at  Col.  Atherton.  But  his 
arm  was  knocked  up  just  in  time  by  Major  iMulford ;  the 
piece  was  discharged  in  the  air ;  the  dancing  mules  were 
caught  by  the  bits  by  firm  hands ;  and  five  minutes  later 
Blondel  and  his  accomplice  lay  swearing  and  writhing 
upon  the  ground,  bound  with  the  very  thongs  taken  from 
the  hands  of  their  captives.  The  revulsion  of  feeling  was 
so  great  that  Catharine  came  very  near  fainting.  When 
sufficiently  recovered,  she  explained  the  whole  afiair  to  the 
officers,  who  were  very  ready  to  return  with  her  to  the 
plantation.  The  awful  scene  that  there  presented  itself 
too  well  attested  her  story.  The  body  of  the  poor  old 
major  had  already  been  cut  down  by  the  faithful  slaves, 


120      THE  EEBEL  GEXEEAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

who  had  tried  in  vain  to  resuscitate  it.  They  were  now 
gathered  around  it,  wee^^ing  and  wailing,  and  uttering 
long,  mournful  howls  of  lamentation  for  the  dear  master 
who  had  always  been  kind  to  them,  with  tlireats  of  ven- 
geance against  his  murderers.  As  yet,  they  seemed 
wholly  indifferent  to  either  a  prospect  of  freedom  or 
change  of  masters. 

The  shell  of  the  grand  old  mansion  was  still  standmg, 
for  it  was  of  solid  stone  of  great  thickness ;  but  the 
inside  work,  which  was  mostly  of  wood,  was  a  mass  of 
glowing  coals,  and  burning  beams,  and  brands,  with  the 
lurid  flames  still  towering  up  fitfully  towards  the  sky. 

Poor  little  Walter,  for  whom  they  first  inquired,  was 
found  in  the  nearest  slave-cabin,  still  insensible  and  sorely 
wounded,  yet  tenderly  cared  for  by  the  kind  slave-mothers 
of  the  plantation.  Sweep,  who  was  wounded  through 
the  cheek  by  Blondel's  shot,  and  had  fallen  upon  the  hard 
paving-stones  below,  still  lay  near  the  burning  dwelling, 
where  he  had  succeeded  in  crawling  with  his  last  remain- 
ing strength.  He  was  out  of  danger,  except  from  flying 
sparks,  and  possibly  falling  walls,  yet  stifling  with  the 
heat,  parched  with  thirst,  and  apparently  in  a  dying  con- 
dition. He  appeared  to  have  no  bones  broken,  which 
was  a  wonder,  and  had  evidently  bound  up  his  wou:iid 
as  well  as  he  could  with  his  handkerchief  before  relaps- 
ing into  insensibility. 

Catharine's  heart  ached  for  both  the  dead  and  dying, 
the  deserving  and  the  undeserving :  and  at  her  desire 
Sweep  was  removed  to  one  of  the  out-houses  that  was 
spared,  where  it  was  cooler ;  and  there,  with  her  own  hands, 
she  poured  water  into  his  parched  mouth  until  he  par- 
tially revived,  and  looked  gratefully  up  to  her. 

"  Why  do  you  do  that  ?     The  wretch  is  unfit  to  live/' 


DEATH   OF   :srAJOR   nUNTER.  121 

said  Col.  Atherton,  after  watching  her  proceedings  a  few 
moments. 

"He  is  unfit  to  die,  Col.  Atherton,"  she  replied:  "let 
liini  live  to  repent,  atone,  and  prepare  for  death,  if  he 
can.     If  he  dies,  nia}'  God  have  mercy  on  his  soul !  " 

By  this  time  Mr.  Garland  and  some  of  the  nearer 
neiglihors  had  arrived  upon  the  scene ;  and  it  was  judged 
best  by  all  to  place  the  remains  of  jNIajor  Hunter  in  the 
family  vault  near  by,  where  the  Hunters  had  reposed  for 
several  generations,  and  dispense  with  all  unnecessary 
funeral  ceremonies.  While  the  preparations  were  in 
progress,  the  officers  dashed  off  upon  the  business  they 
had  in  hand,  but  returned  in  time  for  the  burial,  which 
was  conducted  by  the  parish  clergyman  with  unusual 
solemnity.  This  unseemly  haste  was  judged  necessary, 
because  otherwise  Col.  Atherton  could  not  be  present ; 
and  it  was  very  doubtful  whether  his  wife  would  come 
with  her  other  children,  if  sent  for.  It  was  also  very 
warm.  Doctors  could  not  be  obtained  short  of  the  camp 
or  in  Eichmond,  and  hardly  there,  so  many  wounded  and 
dying  needed  attention.  Walter's  and  Catharine's  wounds 
required  immediate  care,  which  it  was  thought  they  could 
get  in  the  camp  sooner  than  anywhere  else.  But  many 
poor  wounded  Union  soldiers  still  lay  in  the  barracks, 
and  even  on  the  field  of  battle,  untended,  uncared  for, 
and  dying  a  thousand  deaths  in  one  ;  while  the  birds  of 
prey,  and  more  hideous  robbers  of  the  dead,  pursued  their 
hellish  work,  unmindful  of  their  piteous  prayers  for  help 
or  their  dying  agonies. 

Catharine  would  have  preferred  to  go  back  to  Rich- 
mond ;  but  as  it  was  thought  best  to  take  little  Walter 
to  the  camp,  whrch  was  much  nearer,  she  could  not  find 
it  in  her  heart  to  desert  him  under  the  circumstances. 
11 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

GOING   TO    CAMP. THE    BROTHER'S    DANGER. 

HE  carriage-house  and  stables  had  miracu- 
lously escaped  the  conflagration  ;  though  all 
the  good  horses  were  gone  :  so,  in  the  old, 
discarded  family  carriage,  with  a  span  of  old 
spavined  team-horses,  Uncle  Nick  for  driver,  and  Aunt 
Dinah  for  atiendant,  Catharine  and  poor  little  Walter 
made  the  journey  to  head-quarters.  It  was  a  ride  of  six- 
teen miles  ;  and  they  were  obliged  to  go  very  slowly  :  so 
it  was  dark  long  before  their  arrival. 

Sending  some  of  the  officers  forward,  the  colonel  pa- 
tiently attended  them  the  whole  distance,  striving  b}^  his 
presence  and  words  of  encouragement  to  beguile  the 
journey  of  its  tediousness  and  anxieties,  and  assuring 
them  of  safety  from  the  outlaws  by  the  armed  guard  by 
wliich  he  was  attended. 

Worn  out  by  excitement,  fatigue,  and  the  pain  of  her 
wounds,  Catharine's  head  ached  so  she  could  scarcely  see 
before  her  arrival ;  so  she  was  obliged  to  resign  the  care 
of  little  Walter  to  other  hands,  and  lie  down  at  once.  In 
spite  of  all  her  pain  and  anxieties,  as  well  as  the  new  and 
strange  camp  noises,  she  slept  that  night  the  dreamless 
sleep  of  utter  exhaustion.  Gen.  Atherton  —  he  bore 
that  title  now  —  had  a  tent  prepared  for  their  accommo- 

122 


GOING   TO   CAMP.  123 

dation,  aod  did  every  thing  that  was  in  his  power  tomalce 
them  as  comfoi*table  as  possible.  He  also  sought  out  the 
most  distinguished  surgeons  ;  and,  as  soon  as  they  could 
attend  the  next  morning,  he  was  in  waiting.  Walter 
was  still  speechless  and  nearly  insensible ;  which  was  a 
mercy,  as  his  skull  was  broken  by  the  blow  he  had  re- 
ceived, and  the  operation  of  trepanning  was  considered 
necessary  by  the  experienced  surgeons.  Catharine's 
wounds  were  considered  slight  in  comparison  with  his : 
but  they  were  very  painful ;  and  if  the  one  on  the  tem- 
ple had  varied  the  twentieth  part  of  an  inch,  the  doctors 
said,  she  would  never  have  seen  daylight  again.  They  ■ 
were  now  dressed  scientifically;  and,  feeling  much  better, 
she  was  thankfid  to  escape  Avith  her  life.  "  AVith  the  best 
of  care,  Walter  might  live,"  they  said ;  but  it  was  very 
uncertain ;  and  it  would  be  at  the  risk  of  his  life  to  re- 
move him  to  Eichmond,  as  she  had  hoped  to  do.  As  it 
was,  she  consoled  herself  with  the  idea,  that  Mrs.  Hunter 
and  her  daughters  would  return  with  the  messenger  Gen. 
Atherton  had  sent  to  them  with  the  news  of  the  dreadful 
tragedy  and  Walter's  extreme  danger.  But  in  this  hope 
Catharine  was  doomed  to  disappointment ;  for  the  mes- 
senger brought  back  word,  that,  upon  the  receipt  of  the 
terrible  tidings,  which  he  communicated  as  gently  as 
possible,  Mrs.  Hunter  had  fainted,  and  gone  from  one 
paroxysm  into  another,  until  her  reason,  if  not  her  life, 
was  despaired  of.  Under  these  circumstances,  her  daugh- 
ters could  not  leave  her,  and  begged  Catharine  piteously, 
in  a  letter  so  blotted  with  tears  that  she  coidd  hardly  de- 
cipher it,  to  remain  and  take  what  care  she  could  of  little 
Walter.  They  thanked  her  for  all  she  had  done  for  their 
dear  murdered  father,  and  concluded  by  sending  her 
some  apparel,  which  she  greatly  needed :  so  there  was  no 


124      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

alternative ;  stay  in  tlie  rebel  camp  she  must  for  some 
weeks  to  come,  surrounded  by  a  hundred  thousand  rebel 
soldiery.  There  were  other  women  there,  it  is  true, — 
some  of  them  ladies  of  rank,  attending  upon  sick  and 
wounded  relatives,  too  ill  to  be  removed.  But,  confining 
herself  mostl}'"  to  her  own  quarters,  she  saw  little  of  these, 
and  felt,  so  far  as  her  own  sex  and  color  were  concerned, 
as  if  she  were  alone.  But  Dinah  was  a  great  comfort  to 
her,  —  Dinah,  whose  love  and  good- will  she  had  won  bng 
ago,  when  they  had  the  fever ;  who  still  considered  her  in 
the  light  of  a  daughter  of  the  house,  and  who  was  ready 
to  take  everj'-  possible  burden  from  her  shoulders.  But 
Dinah  and  Uncle  Nick  both  had  treacherous  memories, 
and  could  not  read  writing ;  so  the  real  care  came  upon 
Catharine.  She  very  soon  found  out  away  to  make  them 
eminentl}^  useful,  however,  in  the  care  of  the  poor  wounded 
Union  soldiers,  who  were  sadly  neglected  by  their  exas- 
perated enemies,  and  would  have  suffered  more  but  for 
the  kind  and  pitiful  negroes. 

She  visited  them  herself  as  often  as  she  could ;  and 
many  were  the  prayers  that  went  up  for  her  fixture  hap- 
piness. This  experience  alone  made  h»r  feel  as  if  her 
coming  there  was  pro'sadential,  and  not  altogether  in  vain. 
Gen.  Atherton  was  unremitting  in  his  attentions,  and, 
when  off  duty,  spent  all  his  leisure  time  with  them.  And 
never  for  one  moment  dicl  he  suffer  her  to  forget  that  he 
passionately  loved  her ;  was  a  suppliant,  though  not  an 
humble  one,  for  her  favor ;  and  would  be  repulsed  by  no 
common  considerations,  x^ot  often  in  words  indeed  did 
he  indicate  this :  but  every  look  and  tone  revealed  it  to 
her;  and  his  manner,  at  once  respectful,  devoted,  and 
protecting,  announced  a  feeling  of  determined  ownership 
that  was  very  difficult  to  resist  or  gainsay.     She  tried  to 


GOING  TO  CAISIP.  125 

avoid  liim,  — to  plead  fatigue,  and  resign  lier  charge  to 
others  when  she  knew  he  was  coming ;  but  it  was  of  no 
use :  he  alwa3'S  inquired  for  her,  and  was  so  close  in  liis 
questionings  when  they  met,  that  she  could  not  disguise 
the  truth. 

"  Why  is  it  you  avoid  me  as  you  do  ?  "  he  said  to  her 
one  day.  "  You  have  said  that  my  personal  presence 
and  society  were  not  distasteful  to  you ;  that  you  were 
willing  to  he  convinced,  if  wrong  in  your  opinions;  and 
that  you  could  respect  any  man  who  was  sincere  in  the 
avowal  of  opposite  ones.  Why,  then,  if  that  is  the 
truth,  will  you  not  allow  me  the  privilege  of  free  social 
intercourse,  that  I  may,  if  such  a  thing  is  possible, 
win  the  regard  I  so  ardently  covet  ?  " 

'' Because  I  consider  it  wrong  to  encourage  in  any 
human  bosom  hope  that  I  mean  to  disappoint/'  said 
Catharine,  blushing. 

"  So  you  mean  to  disappoint  mine  ?  "  he  eagerly  ques- 
tioned. 

"You  know  what  I  told  you  in  the  beginning.  Gen. 
Atherton,  —  that  every  obligation  that  binds  me  to  my 
kindred,  my  country,  and  my  home  forbids  my  forming 
any  closer  ties  with  one  of  that  country's  avowed 
enemies.  I  am  under  infinite  obligations  to  you  for 
releasing  me  from  a  band  of  rufuans, — possibly  a  fate 
worse  than  death,  —  and  very  many  kind  attentions  since. 
I  assure  you  that  I  am  deeply  grateful ;  but,  knowing 
I  could  not  make  the  return  you  wished,  I  have  felt  as 
if  it  would  be  better,  for  your  sake,  that  we  should  see 
less  of  each  other,  and  for  me  to  go  home  at  the  earliest 
possible  opportunity :  you  would  then  forget  me  very 
soon." 

"Never,  Catharine  !  Whatever  the  event,  I  shall 
11* 


126      THE  REBEL   GEXERAL's   LOYAL  BRIDE. 

never  forget  you.  But  tell  me,  now :  are  there  not  otlier 
reasons,  besides  those  3'ou  have  named,  wh}'  you  cannot 
make  the  return  I  wish  ?  " 

"  Yes  :  a  great  many.  Northern  principle  and  preju- 
dice, clothed  in  poverty,  is  no  suitable  match  for  Vir- 
ginia pride.  That  alwaj^s  arouses  in  my  heart  a  spirit 
of  rebellion  and  antasronism." 

"Catharine,  I  don't  believe  you  ever  loved  Lloyd 
Hunter;  but  you  do  love  some  one  else,  —  some  accursed 
Yankee  in  the  Union  arm}'-  perhaps,  —  whose  life  is 
more  precious  to  3'ou  than  all  I  have  to  offer." 

"No,  Gen.  Atherton  :  I  have  no  knowledge  of  any 
one  in  the  Union  army,  though  I  may  have  many 
friends  tliere;  and,  aside  from  my  kindred,  I  love  no  one 
in  the  wide  world  who  cares  for  me." 

"  Then  you  must  be  mine,  dear  Catharine,  whether 
our  people  are  friends  or  foes :  for  I  care  for  you,  and 
would  shield  you  with  my  life  from  every  danger ;  and 
no  man  can  love  as  ardently  as  I  love  3'cu,  wiihout,  in 
some  sort,  compelling  a  return  of  his  fervent  passion. 
Oh,  think  of  it  as  a  foregone  conclusion  that  3-ou  are  to 
be  my  bride!"  he  passionately  exclaimed. 

"  If  I  were,  your  friends  would  not  respect  me.  LI 03-d 
Hunter  doubted,  and  wa.s  made  to  belii?ve  me  unworthy 
his  regard,  —  as  you  would  be,  were  it  known  that  you 
sought  me  for  a  wife." 

"  No,  Catharine  :  I  could  not  look  into  your  innocent, 
truthful  eyes,  and  believe  you  guilty  of  wrong.  I  was 
told  of  Lloyd  Hunter's  suspicions  bj^  one  who  should 
have  scorned  to  repeat  them ;  but  the}^  made  no  differ- 
ence in  my  feelings.  I  can  read  human  nature  better 
than  he ;  and  so  far  from  doubting  am  I,  that  I  would 
stake  my  life  upon  your  innocence,  purity,  and  truth." 


GOING  TO  CASIP.  127 

'^  Gen.  Athorton,  I  am  deeply  grateful  for  your  just 
and  generous  appreciation,  which  so  few  under  the  cir- 
cumstances would  have  accorded  me ;  and  I  solemnlj'' 
assure  you  that  your  judgment  of  me  was  right,  and  his 
wrong  :  but  that  cannot  alter  our  relations  to  each  other. 
Your  people,  and  you  yourself  at  times,  scorn  and 
despise  ours ;  and  I  can  be  no  true  Southern  wife  while 
my  blood  leaps  so  with  indignation,  as  it  did  when  I 
went  out  to-day,  at  the  unmerited  insults  heaped  upon  us 
as  a  people." 

"  Ah,  Catharine  !  what  would  I  not  give  had  you  been 
born  south  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line !  From  some- 
where you  have  got  the  old  chivalrous  blood  in  your 
veins,  that  is  just  now  flushing  your  cheek  with  crimson, 
and  flashing  in  true  courageous  fire  from  your  eyes,  "  he 
exclaimed  admiringly. 

"  I  have  the  blood  of  honest  and  loyal  New-England 
farmers  and  mechanics  in  my  veins,"  said  she  ;  "and  of 
that  I  am  as  proud  as  if  it  came  from  a  kingly  line." 

"Perhaps  it  did,  far  back  of  the  days  of  the  stern  old 
Puritans,  who  subjected  the  rugged  ISTew-Eu gland  rocks 
and  hills  to  their  dominion.  But  of  one  thins:  I  am  sure,  — 
that,  if  3'ou  were  a  man,  you  would  at  least  lead  a  brave 
Korthern  brigade  against  us,  that  would  never  retreat  as 
ingloriously  as  some  of  them  did  the  other  day  at  Bull 
Pun.  As  a  woman,  you  will  leave  such  a  glorious  name 
behind  you  as  we  can  ill  spare  from  the  records  of  old 
Virginia  ;  "  and,  with  a  triumphant  yet  admiring  glance 
and  smile,  he  rose  and  bade  her  "Good-evening." 

Catharine  felt  vexed  and  indignant,  both  at  him  and 
herself.  Yet  what  better  could  she  have  done  with  such 
a  bold,  presuming  lover  as  Gen.  Atherton  ?  She  felt 
thankful  enough  that  Walter  was  improving,  and  would, 


128      THE  EEBEL  GE^^:RAL'S  LOYAL  BKIDE. 

the  doctor  said,  be  able  to  be  removed  very  soon  ;  for 
she  could  not  help  feeling  anno3'ed  b}'-  the  general's 
persevering  pursuit,  and  that  her  reputation  would 
be  endangered  by  remaining  much  longer  in  such  a 
place,  and  under  such  circumstances.  That  he  took 
every  precaution  to  prevent  this,  she  well  knew,  be- 
cause he  sought  to  make  her  his  wife.  But  she  did  not 
know  that  he  had  used  his  influence  with  Dr.  De  Homer- 
geau  to  prolong  the  excitement  of  her  presence. 

The  next  morning,  observing  an  unusual  stir  and 
bustle  about  the  camp,  Catharine  learned,  upon  inquirj", 
that  a  spy  from  the  Union  army  had  been  caught  the 
night  before  within  the  Confederate  lines.  Some  of  the 
troops  were  clamorous  for  his  immediate  execution  ;  but 
the  officGTS  said  he  must  have  a  fair  trial,  and  gave  Ydtle 
heed  to  their  complaints. 

Somehow,  Catharine's  heart  beat  a  note  of  fear  when 
she  heard  this  news;  and  all  day  she  kept  thinking  of 
it,  until  the  general  came  in  for  his  evening  call.  She 
greeted  him  with  cool  politeness. 

He,  on  his  part,  inquired  tenderly  about  little  Walter, 
who  was  asleep,  but  otherwise,  though  he  watched  her 
narrowly,  seemed  unusually  silent  and  depressed.  At 
last  she  remembered  to  ask,  — 

"What  is  this  I  hear,  general,  about  a  Union  spy? 
Is  his  fate  decided  ? '' 

"  Yes  :  he  dies  at  sunrise,"  was  the  reply. 

"Heaven  help  him!"  she  exclaimed  with  a  sinking 
heart.     "But  do  you  think  him  guilty,  general?" 

"No  :  I  believe  him  an  innocent  man." 

"  But  were  you  not  one  of  the  court-martial  who  con- 
demned him  to  die  ?  "  she  questioned. 

"  Yes :  but  I  was  in  the  minority,  and  could  not  save 
him." 


THE  brother's  DANGER.  129 

"  "What  is  his  name  ?     Poor  fellow ! '' 

The  general  hesitated,  looking  at  her  pitifully.  "  Cath- 
arine, have  you  a  hrother  in  the  ser^ace  ?  "  he  isaid  at  last. 
"  The  3'oung  man  gave  his  name  as  Hale ;  and,  from  his 
resemhlance  to  you,  I  feared  "  — 

"  ^ly  God !  It  is  my  wild,  adventurous  brother  Harry  ! 
I  have  felt  and  feared  it  all  the  time,"  she  exclaimed  in 
asronized  tones. 

"  His  name  was  indeed.  Harry  Hale.  Lut  it  is  a  com- 
mon name  enough ;  and  it  may  not  be  your  brother,  after 
all,"  said,  the  general  in  sympathetic  tones. 

"  Oh,  it  is,  it  is  !  I  feel  it  here  ;  "  and  she  laid  her  hand 
on  her  heart.  "  And  for  him  to  die  in  such  a  way,  —  so 
young,  so  brave,  so  talented,  so  much  beloved  1  0  Gen. 
Atherton !  is  there  no  reprieve,  no  appeal  from  this 
wicked  decision  ?  "  and  she  got  up  and  walked  the  floor, 
wringing  her  hands  in  tearless  agony. 

"  I  fear  not :  the  whole  army  will  demand  his  execu- 
tion." 

"  But  you  are  all-powerful !  You  can  save  him,  if  you 
will  only  use  your  influence." 

"  'No,  Catharine :  I  failed  to  do  so  at  the  trial ;  and 
nothing  that  I  can  say  or  do  will  avail  aught  with  the 
powers  above  me." 

^'  But  is  there  no  way,  no  escape  from  a  fate  so  igno- 
minious, so  terrible  ?  0  Harry  !  generous,  noble-hearted 
brother !  What  is  there  I  would  not  do  to  save  thee  ? 
Do  you  think  I  can  see  him,  general  ?  " 

"  Certainly ;  at  least  I  will  try  and  pave  the  way  for 
you  immediately.  But  pray  sit  down !  You  are  ex- 
hausting yourself  by  these  emotions,  when  you  will  need 
all  your  strength  to  bear  you  up  in  this  sad  interview ; " 
and  he  led  her  gently  to  a  seat,  called  Dinah,  and  went 


130      THE  REBEL  GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

out  immediately.  He  returned  presently  with  the  wTitten 
order  from  the  proper  authorities  for  Catharine's  admit- 
tance to  the  prison. 

But  for  a  shrewd  after-thought,  the  general  would  have 
attended  her  himself.  As  it  was,  she  went  with  a  proper 
escort,  and  Dinah  for  an  attendant ;  while  Uncle  Xick 
renfained  with  Walter,  and  he  went  out  among  his  hrother- 
officers.  She  found  poor  Hany  confined,  and  douhly 
guarded,  in  an  old,  strong,  yet  somewhat  dilapidated 
building,  that  was  used  as  a  prison,  but  so  changed  in 
appearance,  that,  had  she  not  been  expecting  to  find  him 
there,  she  would  not  have  known  him.  His  form  was 
thin  and  attenuated,  his  cheeks  pale  and  hollow ;  dark 
circles  were  around  his  once  laughing,  but  now  sad  and 
moTrmful  eyes ;  his  mouth  was  compressed  as  if  with 
acute  bodily  and  mental  sufiering;  and  his  whole  appear- 
ance, as  he  sat  there  upon  a  dirty  pile  of  straw,  leaning 
his  head  upon  his  hand,  betokened  the  deepest  dejection 
and  despair. 

"  A  lady  to  see  you,  sir,"  announced  the  grim  jailer,  as 
he  opened  the  door ;  "  but  what  she  wants  of  a  cussed 
Yankee  spy  is  more  than  I  can  tell,"  he  muttered  in  a 
lower  tone  as  he  reluctantly  closed  the  door. 

Catharine  advanced  a  few  paces,  followed  by  Dinah, 
and  then  stopped,  overcome  by  emotion.  Poor  Harry, 
for  it  was  indeed  he,  slowly  raised  his  head,  blinded  for  a 
moment  by  the  brilliant  sunset  rays  that  came  pouring 
in  through  the  open  door.  The  moment  his  eyes  rested 
on  Catharine,  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and,  with  a  cry  of  joy, 
held  out  his  manacled  hands  to  her,  and  was  soon  sobbing 
like  a  child  upon  her  bosom. 

"  0  Harry,  dear  brother !  It  breaks  my  heart  to  find 
you  thus,  —  so  changed,  so  VvTetched,  and  in  such  frightful 
peril ! "  sobbed  Catharine. 


THE  BEOTHER'S  DANGER.  131 

"  And  mine  to  be  in  this  horrid  condition,"  said  he 

gloomily. 

''  Dut  how  came  you  to  be  in  it,  dear  Harry  ?     Were 

you  indeed  a  spy  ?  " 

"  No,  Cathai-ine  :  God  knows  I  was  far  enough  from 
that.  I  was  wounded,  and  left  for  dead,  in  that  terrible 
battle  of  Bull  Eun.  The  night  after  the  battle  I  revived, 
and  crawled  away  into  the  bushes.  iVfter  suffering  every 
thing  but  death  from  pain,  thirst,  and  starvation,  I  was 
found  by  a  friendly  negro,  who  took  me  to  his  hut,  and 
nursed  me  back  to  life  and  comparative  health.  And  it 
was  in  trying  to  make  iny  way  through  the  rebel  lines 
to  our  own,  that  I  was  caught  by  the  rebel  pickets,  who 
of  course  would  not  believe  my  story.  Tried  by  a  court- 
martial,  I  am  condemned  to  die  a  felon's  death ;  to  which 
some  of  my  friends  long  ago  consigned  me,  you  remem- 
ber," he  said  with  a  miserable  attempt  at  a  smile. 

"  I  know ;  but,  0  Harry !  I  feel  as  if  I  cannot  have  it 
so.  Is  there  nothing  I  can  say  or  do  to  help  or  save  you  ? 
They  tell  me  there  is  no  hope  of  a  reprieve,  but  I  will 
not  believe  it." 

"  You  must.  Like  tigers  they  are  thirsting  for  blood ; 
and  they  will  not  let  me  go." 

"Then  you  can  only  look  up  to  God  for  help  and  mercy, 
and  meet  death  as  bravely  as  you  can,"  she  said  in  a 
voice  quivering  with  emotion. 

'•  0  Catharine  !  "  he  passionately  exclaimed,  "  better  a 
thousand  times  that  I  had  died  upon  the  battle-field  than 
live  to  suffer  untold  agonies,  and  die  at  last  by  the 
hangman's  rope  ; "  and  there  was  a  pitiable  note  of  fear 
in  his  tones,  that  made  Catharine's  heart  ache.  "  You 
may  think  me  a  coward,"  he  continued  ;  "  yet  I  fought 
manfully  to  the  last,  and  stood  up  before  the  cannon's 


132      THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

moutli  without  blenching.  And  when  I  lay  (\ving,  as  I 
thought,  upon  the  battle-field,  though  I  longed  to  live,  I 
felt  as  if  I  could  trust  in  God's  mercy,  and  was  resigned 
to  die  for  my  country.  But  now,  with  feeble  health, 
shattered  nerves,  and  a  heart  sick  with  vain  longings  for 
home  and  friends,  the  thought  of  a  felon's  death  strikes 
me  with  a  nameless  terror.  I  try  to  combat  it :  I  strive 
to  think  of  it  calmly  ;  but  it  is  of  no  use.  Oh,  I  shall 
die  a  very  coward  in  the  face  of  our  enemies  !" 

"But,  dear  Harry,  it  is  really  no  worse  than  any  other 
mode,"  began  Catharine. 

"Yet  the  flash  of  the  sword  or  the  whir  of  a  bullet 
I  believe  I  could  bear  bravely;  but  the  scaffold  —  the 
hangman's  rope  —  0  God!  Catharine,  I  cannot  —  oh,  I 
cannot  bear  the  thought!  "  and  again  he  laid  his  face  on 
her  bosom,  and  wept  like  a  grieved  child. 

She  pressed  him  to  her  heart,  and  mingled  her  tears 
with  his ;  but  what  could  she  do  or  say  to  console  him  ?  — 
what  to  comfort  herself  ? 

"  0  Harry  !  *'  she  sobbed  at  last,  "  God  knows  I  would 
save  you  if  I  could.  I  will  go  to  Beauregiird  or  Jefferson 
Davis  himself,  and  plead  for  your  life,  or  do  any  thing 
in  the  world  else  you  think  would  be  of  any  avail." 

"It  would  be  all  in  vain,  Catharine,  —  worse  than  use- 
less J  for  they  thirst  for  the  blood  of  every  Northern 
man,  and  would  not  spare  me." 

"  But  you  do  not  know  that,  Harry ;  so  just  let  me  try. 
Gen.  Atherton,  I  know,  believes  you  innocent,  and  will 
help  me^to  gain  an  audience,  and  perhaps  I  can  persuade 
others  to  the  same  opinions." 

"No.  Catharine:  not  forme  shall  you  kneel  at  the 
feet  of  these  arch-rebels,  to  be  spurned,  and  spit  upon,  if 
nothing  worse.     But  how,  in  the  name  of  wonder,  did 


THE  brother's  D.VNGER.  133 

you  get  here  anyway  ?     I  thought  you  had  gone  home 
long  ago." 

In  a  few  brief  words  she  explained  her  position  and 
past  experiences. 

"  What !  Staying  here  in  the  rebel  camp  ! "  he  ex- 
claimed in  astonishment.  "  Oh  !  I  tremble  for  your  safety. 
Pray  get  out  of  it,  and  go  home  as  soon  as  you  can  !  " 

"That  is  my  intention;  though  I  have  had  nothing 
but  honorable  treatment  thus  far,  and  may  have  saved 
precious  lives  by  coming  here.  But  how  are  they  all  at 
home  ?  " 

^•'  Well,  when  last  heard  from  ;  and  Theodore,  who  was 
with  me  in  the  battle,  is  a  captain  in  the  Union  army. 
Wliether  he  lived  or  died,  I  cannot  tell." 

"  Time's  up  !  Only  five  minutes  more  ! "  sung  out 
the  jailer. 

'•  Oh,  must  we  part  thus,  and  forever !  "  sobbed  Cath- 
arine. ''  0  Harry  !  is  there  nothing  I  can  say  to  recon- 
cile you  to  this  terrible  destiny  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  dear  sister,  —  nothing  but  pray  that  I  may 
have  courage  given  me  to  die  like  a  man.  But,  oh  ! "  — 
and  again  the  tears  burst  forth,  —  "to  think  that  there 
is  but  a  night,  a  span  long,  between  me  and  eternity ! 
To  think  of  tlie  gaping  crowd,  — the  choking  breath,  — 
the  dying  agonies,  — the  dread  hereafter." 

"  0  Harry  !  try  and  not  think  of  the  pain  of  death, 
for  it  will  be  short ;  or,  if  you  must,  remember,  that,  in 
dying  thus,  you  just  as  much  sacrifice  your  life  for  your 
country  as  if  you  laid  it  down  on  the  battle-field,  or  in 
the  hospital.  It  all  seems  unnecessary,  and  horribly 
wicked  to  me ;  and  God  knows  we  pay  a  fearful  price 
for  our  national  crimes !  But  we  cannot  help  this. 
You  have  done  what  3^ou  considered  your  duty  to  your 

12 


134      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL' S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

country  :  you  are  to  die  a  martyr  to  the  cause  of  truth, 
justice,  and  liberty ;  and  now  all  that  remains  is  for 
you  to  make  jouv  peace  with  God.  Oh,  come  to  tlie 
Saviour  now,  dear  brother,  if  never  before  ;  and  he  will 
bear  you  safely  over  the  dark  river  of  death ! "  she  ex- 
claimed with  a  con^ailsive  sob. 

"  Oh,  I  cannot  prepare,  Catharine  !  I  feel  as  if  it  were 
impossible  under  present  circumstances.  Once  the  future 
life  looked  bright  and  glorious  to  me ;  now  all  is  doubt 
and  darkness,  gloom  and  despair.  I  can  see  no  help  or 
hope  for  me,  here  or  hereafter.  I  ought  not  to  tell  you 
this  to  add  to  the  bitterness  of  your  grief;  and,  for 
God's  sake,  do  not  tell  my  dear  mother.  Give  my  best 
love  to  them  all  at  home,  and  tell  them  I  shall  think 
of  3^ou  all  to  the  last  moment.  Bid  Theodore  fight  for 
us  both,  if  he  is  still  living, — not  to  revenge  my  death 
upon  these  poor,  deluded  people,  but  to  uphold  the  ban- 
ner of  freedom,  set  the  oppressed  and  enslaved  millions 
free,  and  support  the  best  government  the  sun  ever 
shone  upon." 

"  Time's  up,  — not  a  minit  more  ! "  exclaimed  a  gruff 
voice,  as  the  guard  opened  the  door. 

There  was  of  course  no  alternative ;  so,  amid  sobs  and 
tears,  the  farewell  words  were  spoken.  Catharine  tore 
herself  awaj^,  and,  blinded  by  tears,  was  led  by  old  Aunt 
Dinah  from  the  grim  prison-house. 

The  walk  home  somewhat  calmed  her ;  but  still  her 
heart  was  bursting  with  grief  at  the  thought  of  her 
brother's  sad  fate,  —  a  thousand  times  more  terrible  for 
his  agonizing  terror  and  grim  despair:  and  she  was 
sitting  with  her  head  bowed  upon  her  hands,  —  racking 
her  brains  for  some  expedient  by  which  to  save  him, 
when  Gen.  Atherton  entered  the  room. 


THE  brother's   DANGER.  135 

Knowing,  from  Dinah,  something  of  what  had  passed, 
he  came  up  beside  her ;  and,  laying  his  hand  gcntlj^  uj)on 
her  bowed  head,  he  said  in  a  tone  of  deep  commisera- 
tion, — 

^'Catharine,  may  I  sympathize  with  you  in  this  deep 
affliction  ?     God  knows  I  would  lighten  it  if  I  could." 

'•'Oh,  you  can, — you  can!"  she  exclaimed  eagerly, 
as  she  raised  her  tearful  eyes  to  his:  "you  can  procure 
me  an  interview  with  the  commanding  general,  and  help 
me  plead  the  cause  of  an  innocent  man." 

"It  could  do  no  good,  Catharine  :  I  know  his  opinion 
of  this  case  too  well  to  believe  we  could  influence  him 
in  the  least;  and,  even  if  he  were  made  to  believe  in 
your  brother's  innocence,  he  dare  not  pardon  if  he 
would.  As  to  our  President,  he  is  in  Eichmond,  and 
could  not  be  reached,  and  a  messenger  return,  until  all 
is  over." 

"  Oh  !  is  there,  then,  no  help,  no  hope,  no  ray  of  light  to 
illumine  his  sad  fate,  —  no  possible  change  to  be  hoped 
for  in  the  mode  of  that  death  he  dreads  so  much  ?  " 

"  Is  he  then,  a  soldier,  so  much  afraid  of  death  ?  " 

"ISTot  of  death,  for  he  has  walked  bravely  up  to  the 
cannon's  mouth,  and  would  again ;  but  he  shudders  with 
horror  at  the  thought  of  a  felon's  death.  Can  you  un- 
derstand such  feelings  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes:  they  are  but  natural  to  a  noble  soul." 

"And  he  has  one, — too  pure  and  noble  for  a  fate 
like  that,  too  precious  to  be  so  ignobly  sacrificed.  Oh  ! 
I  would  almost  lay  down  my  own  life  to  procure  his 
acquittal  or  escape." 

"Catharine,  do  you  realize  what  you  are  saying?" 
said  the  general  suddenly,  after  a  pause,  during  which 
his  face  flamed  up  with  a  rapidlj^-formed  resolution ;  and 
his  eyes  and  hands  eagerly  sought  her  own. 


136      THE  EEBEL  GENT^RAl/s  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"I  think  I  do; "  and  slie  raised  her  tearful  eyes  to  his 
face. 

"And  would  you  give  less  than  life,  yet  what  is  quite 
as  precious  as  mine,  to  him  who  would  secretly  procure 
your  brother's  escape,  and  safe  transmission  through  our 
lines?"  he  continued  in  a  low,  thrilling  tone. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  ?  and  what  is  it  I  could  give  ?  "  she 
questioned ;  while  her  face  blanched  to  a  deadly  white, 
as  a  keen  perception  of  his  meaning  flashed  over  her. 

"  I  asked,  because  the  devotion  of  a  life,  and  the  re- 
quital you  could  give,  would  tempt  one  who  loves  you  to 
run  a  great  risk,  —  to  set  free  an  innocent  man  for  your 
sake." 

'•And  without  that  requital,  —  for  the  sake  of  right 
and  justice  and  humanity, "  she  tremblingly  urged. 

"  Those  are  certainly  good  and  sufficient  reasons,  but 
too  far  off  and  intangible  for  a  nature  as  earthly  as  mine. 
Ah,  Catharine  !  nothing  in  this  world  but  the  gift  of 
yourself  could  tempt  me  to  run  a  risk,  tliat,  in  case  of 
discovery,  would  involve  me  in  disgrace  and  ruin,  if  not 
death.  But  all  this  risk  will  I  run  for  the  sake  of  the 
love  you  perseveringly  withhold  from  me." 

'-  Gen.  Atherton,  I  have  already  told  you  that  I  re- 
spect and  esteem,  but  do  not  love  you ;  and,  as  regards 
that,  we  cannot  command  our  own  feelings." 

"  I  would  also  take  that  risk,"  said  he  eagerly ;  '*  for  I 
know  that  no  one  can  love  as  ardently  as  I  love  you, 
without  winning  a  return  at  last.  Become  my  wife, 
dear  Catharine,  the  sharer  of  my  destiny;  and  I  know 
you  would  learn  to  love  me." 

"Oh  !  I  cannot,  Gen.  Atherton,  —  I  dare  not, with  my 
present  feelings:  it  would  be  a  wrong  before  high 
Heaven,  both  to  you  and  myself;  and  you  would  wrong 


THE  brother's  DANGER.  137 

yourself  too,  —  hou'ever  urgent  my  need, — to  involve 
yourself,  and  run  such  a  risk  for  my  sake." 

"That  is  my  affair.  I  would  do  it  gladly  to  win  the 
reward  that  it  is  in  your  power  to  bestow.  Allow  my 
chaplain  to  unite  us  this  night;  and  I  will  do  all  that 
is  in  the  power  of  man  to  do  to  save  your  brother  from 
death.  To-morrow  it  will  be  too  late, — both  for  him 
and  for  me.  I  am  ordered  to  join  the  army  of  the 
south-west  immediately,  and  cannot  even  take  you 
with  me  in  my  hasty  journey,  if  you  become  my  wife, 
much  as  I  might  wish  it.  Yet  that  need  not  prevent 
your  becoming  so  now,  and  giving  me  the  right  to  be- 
come your  future  guardian  and  protector  through  life. 
Oh,  will  you  not  do  this,  dear  Catharine  ?  "  he  pleaded 
in  most  persuasive  tones,  as  he  sat  down  beside  her,  and 
put  his  arm  lovingly  around  her. 

"  Oh,  do  not  —  do  not  urge  me  now,"  she  sobbed  :  "  it 
seems  so  like  a  mockery,  with  his  precious  life  trembling 
in  the  balance.  And,  oh !  it  is  revolting  to  every  feeling 
of  delicacy  in  a  maiden's  heart  to  sell  one's  self  to  save 
another's  soul,  —  to  traffic  a  life  for  a  wife.  Oh,  be  noble, 
be  generous,  —  be  your  own  true  self,  dear  general ! 
Save  him  if  you  can  -,  and  gratitude  hereafter  may  win 
for  you  what  a  persistence  in  immediate  returns  might 
lose  you  forever." 

"  Ah,  but  to  be  my  own  true  self,  I  must  be  selfish 
enough  to  insist  upon  my  own  rights.  I  was  neither 
born  nor  educated  to  self-abnegation ;  and  for  no  trifling 
scruples  of  delicacy  can  I  resign  the  dearest  and  sweetest 
hope  of  my  life.  I  think  I  know  and  can  understand 
your  feelings  under  the  circumstances.  For  poor  Harry's 
sake,  you  are  willing  to  waive  all  the  political  scruples 
that  have  divided  us.     But  the  suddenness  of  my  pro- 

12* 


138      THE  EEBEL   GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

posal,  and  thouglits  of  its  future  consequences;  sliock 
and  frighten,  and  fill  your  heart  with  a  dread  of  me  that 
future  experience  will  not  justify.  But  I  am  no  ogre, 
that  you  need  to  fear  me,  Catharine.  Give  me  hut  a  hus- 
hand's  claim  to  you  hereafter,  and  I  will  prove  to  you 
that  I  can  love  fondly,  cherish  tenderly,  and  wait  pa- 
tiently for  the  return  of  the  fond  affection  you  have  in- 
spired in  my  bosom." 

He  saw  that  she  wavered ;  that  his  strong  will  and 
earnest  determination  were  overhearing  the  frail  barriers 
she  had  raised  to  oppose  them  ;  and,  lowering  his  voice  to 
a  tenderer  tone,  he  continued,  — 

"  Cannot  3'ou  trust  me,  dear  Catharine  ?  Do  you 
fear  to  place  your  happiness  in  my  keeping  ?  If  it  suits 
you  better,  we  will  wait  for  the  solemn  ceremony  that  is 
to  make  us  one  until  you  know  that  the  scaffold  has  lost 
its  victim.  And  then,  when  you  are  mine  for  all  time, 
all  your  scruples  of  delicacy  shall  be  regarded.  Much 
as  it  will  cost  me,  I  will  resign  all  present  claim  to  your 
society  if  you  will  promise  to  join  me  when  I  come  or 
send  for  you  hereafter.     Oh  !  will  you  not  do  this  ?  " 

Catharine  could  only  sob  :  her  heart  was  too  full  for 
words.  She  saw  nothing  clearly,  but  poor  Harry's 
agonized  face,  and  sad,  pleading  eyes,  as  he  told  her  of 
his  terror  at  thought  of  a  felon's  death,  his  dread  of  the 
dai'k,  unknown  future.  And  she,  by  a  great  sacrifice  of 
feeling,  could  save  him.  "Would  she  not,  before  God,  be 
guilty  of  his  murder  if  she  refused  to  do  so  ?  was  a  ques- 
tion she  asked  herself,  —  that  struck  such  terror  to  her 
heart  that  she  dared  refuse  no  longer. 

Gen.  Atherton  looked  eagerly  into  her  eyes,  as  these 
things  were  revolving  in  her  mind,  and  he  seemed  almost 
by  intuition  to  read  her  very  soul. 


THE  brother's  DANGER.  139 

"  0  Catharine  !  is  not  your  brother's  life  worth  a  pur- 
chase like  this?  "  he  questioned  tenderly. 

"  Yes,  yes,  —  a  thousand  times  yes !  Oh !  save  him. 
Gen.  Atherton,  and  I  promise  to  be  your  wife,"  she  ex- 
claimed with  a  shuddering  sob. 

"  Mine,  —  mine  at  last !  "  he  said  with  deep  feeling,  as 
he  pressed  the  hand  he  had  clasped  to  his  lips.  "0 
Catharine  !  if  I  live,  you  shall  never,  never  repent  of  this 
decision.  And  don't,  pray,  look  forward  to  this  consum- 
mation -svith  fear  and  dread.  You  shall  have  no  reason 
to  do  so.  You  shall  always  be  treated  kindly  and  re- 
spectfully, cared  for  tenderly,  and  have  abundant  means 
at  your  disposal  to  do  all  the  good  you  wish.  And  cer- 
tainly, if  this  war  goes  on,  you  will  not  lack  for  opportu- 
nities you  never  would  have  found  at  home.  But  time  is 
flying.  If  I  would  win  this  precious  guerdon,  I  must  be 
up  and  doing.     I  will  see  you  again  ere  I  sleep." 

He  was  gone  at  last;  and  Catharine  sat  there  with 
bowed  head,  just  as  he  found  her.  But  what  a  change 
had  come  over  the  spirit  of  her  dreams  !  Was  it  true 
that  that  short  interview  had  decided  her  destiny?  It 
would  seem  so ;  and  yet  she  could  only  realize  a  dull, 
aching  pain  in  her  head  and  heart,  a  shivering  dread  of 
the  unknown  future,  a  horrible  fear  lest  she  should  sac- 
rifice herself  in  vain,  and  poor  Harry  be  murdered. 
Could  she  ever  love  this  man  to  whom  she  had  sold  her- 
self ?  Could  she  ever  forgive  him  for  taking  such  an 
ungenerous  advantage  of  her  in  her  dire  extremity, 
when  he  might,  if  he  would,  have  proved  himself  so 
noble,  and  worthy  of  her  regard  ?  Overcome  as  she  was 
by  the  thought  of  Hany's  danger,  she  would  hardly  have 
consented,  but  for  his  promise  to  leave  her  as  soon  as 
the  .ceremony  was   over,  and  the   undefined  hope  that 


140      THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

something,  she  knew  not  what,  might  make  that  separa- 
tion eternal. 

That  night,  when  he  called  again,  he  told  her  that 
every  thing  was  in  train  for  Harry's  escape.  And  then 
it  was  arranged  that  the  marriage  was  to  he  a  private 
one,  with  no  one  present  but  Aunt  Dinah,  the  chaplain, 
and  two  of  the  general's  friends;  all  of  whom  had  prom- 
ised to  keep  the  secret  until  his  return  from  the  South- 
west. Immediately  after  the  ceremony,  tliey  were  to 
set  out  for  Eichmond,  where  he  was  obliged  to  go  for 
orders  previous  to  setting  out  upon  his  Southern  jour- 
ney. But  for  the  fact  of  his  projecting  Harry's  escape, 
and  it  being  known  to  some  that  she  was  of  the  same 
name,  and  had  visited  him  in  prison.  Gen.  Atherton 
would  gladly  have  claimed  and  proclaimed  her  publicly 
as  his  bride.  As  it  was,  it  was  judged  more  prudent  not 
to  do  so,  through  fear  that  some  suspicion  might  fall  on 
them,  when  it  became  known  that  the  prisoner  had  es- 
caped. His  friends,  Major  Darwin  and  Col.  Mulford, 
had  suspected  his  attachment  from  the  first,  but  admired 
her  too  much  themselves  to  wonder  at  his  securing 
her,  if  he  could,  before  his  departure  for  distant  battle- 
fields. 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

THE   brother's   ESCAPE. OLD    ACQUAINTANCES. 

HAT  niglit,  when  all  was  still  in  the  rebel 
camp,  save  the  voices  of  the  sentinels  as 
they  paced  their  weary  rounds,  the  groans 
of  the  wounded,  or  the  low,  sad  tones  of 
tired  watchers  by  the  couches  of  the  sick  and  dying, 
poor  Harry  Hale  lay  writhing  upon  his  bed  of  straw. 
He  was  sleepless,  inexf)ressibly  wretched,  and  not  a  whit 
more  resigned  to  his  fate  than  he  was  when  Catharine 
left  him.  He  had  been  visited  by  some  of  the  rebel 
chapLains,  who  came  to  prepare  him  for  the  sad  change 
awaiting  him  :  but,  though  he  conversed  with  and  lis- 
tened to  them  respectfully,  their  prayers  were  not  blessed 
by  his  late  repentance,  conversion,  or  even  resignation  to 
his  sad  destiny ;  for,  though  not  what  might  be  called 
a  hardened,  impenitent  sinner,  poor  Harry  was,  as  yet, 
essentially  earthly  in  all  his  thoughts  and  feelings,  and 
had  110  bright  hopes  of  a  better  world  to  wean  him  from 
the  pleasures  and  joys  of  this.  Still  he  had  pride 
enough  to  prevent  him  from  exposing  his  weakness  to 
the  rebels,  as  he  had  done  to  Catharine ;  and,  if  he  had 
really  died  by  the  hangman's  rope,  that  pride  would 
probably  have  supported  him  to  the  end. 

The  rough  hut  in  which  he  was  confined  had  been 

141 


142      THE  REBEL   GENEEAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

built  by  Irish  laborers  at  tlie  time  of  the  construction 
of  the  railroad.  It  hail  but  one  room,  aside  from  the 
attic,  and  tlie  small  one  in  which  the  prisoner  was  con- 
fined. The  larger  room  was  now  occupied  by  the  guards, 
some  of  whom  were  stationed  on  the  outside  of  the 
building.  This  hut  still  belonged  to  an  Irishman, 
named  Mike  Flannegan,  —  a  jolly,  good-natured,  warm- 
hearted, whiskey-loving  genius,  always  full  of  his  gibes 
and  jokes,  and  ready  to  do  a  good  turn  to  whoever  was 
the  best  paymaster.  He  now  worked  by  the  day  upon 
the  fortifications  ;  slept  at  night  in  his  attic  ;  and  every- 
where and  always  was  a  great  favorite  with  the  soldiery. 
As  there  was  supposed  to  be  no  mode  of  egress  from 
Harry's  room  but  by  the  door,  and  one  small  and 
strongly-barred  window,  and  the  room  was  found  to  be  full 
of  filth  and  vermin,  —  the  companions  of  its  late  occu- 
pant, —  Mike  Flannegan's  pig,  —  they  concluded  it  was 
unnecessary  to  remain  in  the  room  with  him.  So,  lock- 
ing the  door,  and  posting  a  guard  outside,  they  thought 
him  perfectly  safe.  But  a  good  many  had  been  in,  dur- 
ing the  day  and  evening,  to  gratify  their  curiosity  by 
looking  through  a  certain  knot-hole  in  the  prisoner's 
door,  some  one  of  whom  had  forgotten  a  basket  of  cakes 
and  cheese,  garnished  by  a  bottle  of  uncommonly  sopo- 
rific whiskey.  No  guard  could  be  expected  to  withstand 
a  temptation  like  that,  when  it  was  once  discovered. 
The  consequence  was,  that  they  all  got  —  not  exactly 
drunk,  but  quiet,  and  slightly  oblivious  of  surrounding 
objects.  But  jDoor  Harry  knew  nothing  of  all  this  :  he 
only  knew,  as  the  unmarked  hours  glided  by  in  the  dark- 
ness, that  his  life  was  fast  fleeting  away ;  and  he  watched 
the  faint  ray  from  the  knot-hole,  expecting  soon  to  see 
it  exchanged  for  the  light  of  his  last  earthly  morning. 


THE  brother's  ESa^PE.  143 

Though  he  knew  nothing  of  the  time,  it  was  past  mid- 
night ;  and  the  camp,  as  well  as  his  guard,  had  long  been 
comparatively  still ;  when,  all  at  once,  he  thouglit  he 
heard  a  faint  knocking  beneath  him.  He  lifted  his 
head,  and  eagerly  listened.  It  was  repeated,  —  this 
time  a  little  louder. 

'•  "What  can  it  be?  "  he  murmured  wonderingly. 

"Whist,  for  yer  life,  if  ye  want  to  escape  !"  whispered 
a  voice  directly  beneath  him. 

"Wlio's  there?"  he  whispered  in  return,  his  voice 
trembling  with  the  nervous  eagerness  of  a  renewed  hope 
flashing  out  of  the  blackness  of  dark  despair. 

"Don't  ask,  but  get  up,  and  softly  pull  away  the 
straw  from  the  corner,  —  far  as  ye  can,"  was  the  replj''. 

Harry  managed  to  do  this  with  his  feet  and  manacled 
hands,  when,  to  his  astonishment,  the  floor  began  to  rise, 
disclosing  a  trap-door  —  over  which  he  had  lain  secure- 
ly —  and  the  faintest  possible  ray  of  light  beneath.  Im- 
mediately afterwards,  an  honest,  sympathizing  Irish  face 
appeared  at  the  opening ;  and  its  owner  crept  stealthily 
up  into  the  room. 

"  Whist,  for  yer  life ! "  he  repeated  in  Harry's  ear. 
He  then  produced  keys,  and  proceeded  to  unlock  his 
shackles,  and  rub  his  benumbed  limbs  to  get  the  blood 
in  circulation  once  more. 

"  I^ow  follow  me  !  "  whispered  his  good  genius  kindly. 

Harry  could  not  believe  the  evidence  of  his  senses, 
and  kept  thinking  it  was  all  a  dream,  though  ready 
enough  to  follow  his  conductor.  Blinded,  dizzy,  and  be- 
numbed as  he  was,  he  would  have  fallen  through  the 
trap  but  for  the  assistance  of  his  warm-hearted  friend. 

"i!sow,  me  darlint,"  he  said,  when  he  had  got  him 
safely  down  the  rude  ladder,  "  you  must  slip  out  of  this 


144      THE  EEBEL  GENEEAL's  LOYAL  BEmE. 

toggery," — pointing  to  liis  Federal  uniform,  —  "and 
jest  step  into  anotlier  sarpent's  skin,  if  ye  want  to  give 
'em  the  slip  ;  "  and,  by  the  dim  light  of  a  dark  lantern, 
he  produced  a  suit  of  common  citizen's  garments,  that 
Harry  readily  exchanged  for  his  own,  which  the  man  hid 
in  a  sly  corner. 

"  IsTow,  hone}^,"  he  whispered,  "  pluck  up  yer  courage, 
put  on  a  stiif  upper  lip,  and  don't  make  a  noise  louder' n 
a  misketer;  for  we've  got  a  narrer  chance  to  run.  Here, 
take  a  drink  of  the  swate  crater,  and  then  foller  me." 

Harrj^  obeyed  in  both  particulars ;  for  he  sadl}^  needed 
something  to  recruit  his  exhausted  energies,  and  give 
him  the  strength  and  courage  he  needed  for  an  adven- 
ture so  highly  dangerous.  "Without  further  questioning, 
he  then  stooped,  and  followed  his  guide  through  a  narrow 
passage,  leading  into  a  ruined  cow-shed  behind  the  hut. 
This  passage  had  been  cut  by  former  occupants  for  the 
convenience  of  their  pigs  and  poultry,  which  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  wintering  in  the  rude  cellar  of  the  little 
mansion. 

"  Now,  me  honey,  on  thy  belly  shalt  thou  crawl,  and 
dust  shalt  thou  eat  for  a  while,  —  like  any  other  sarpent," 
whispered  his  guide  with  a  low,  merry  laugh,  as  he  lay 
down  upon  the  ground,  and  began  to  crawl  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  outposts.  It  was  dark  and  cloudy ;  but,  as 
the  guide  knew  every  inch  of  the  ground,  this  was  a 
favorable  circumstance.  So,  by  crawling  around  senti- 
nels, walking  in  the  deepest  shadows,  and  creeping  around 
opposing  obstacles  where  it  was  more  exposed,  taking 
paths  that  were  very  circuitous,  he  succeeded  in  piloting 
Harry  safely  out  of  the  rebel  encampment. 

"  Now,  me  darlint,  we'll  stop  and  rest  a  bit,'^  said  the 
unknown  guide,  when  he  thought  they  were  at  a  safe  dis- 


THE  brother's  ESCAPE.  145 

tauce  from  camp ;  "  and  p'ra'ps  a  bit  and  a  sup  wouldn't 
como  amiss  wid  ye  now." 

"Ko,  indeed!"  said  Harry,  who,  having  eaten 
scarcely  any  thing  since  his  capture,  now  began  to  feel 
the  keen  demands  of  hunger  after  his  tiresome  exer- 
tions. He  ate  a  piece  of  dirty  corn-bread  and  a  slice  of 
cold  ham  with  the  keenest  relish ;  nor  did  he  disdain  to 
wash  it  down  with  some  of  the  contents  of  his  guide's 
"  pocket  pistol,"  though  he  was  a  strong  temperance 
man  at  home. 

"Kow,  my  friend,"  he  said,  "that  you  have  fortified 
the  inner  man,  and  set  the  outer  one  at  liberty,  will  you 
be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for 
all  these  favors,  and  why  you  take  interest  enough  in 
me  to  run  such  a  frightful  risk  for  my  sake  ?  " 

"  Spake  lower,  honey,  if  ye  don't  want  a  twist  in  yer 
gullet.  As  to  the  first,  I'm  Mike  Flannegan,  at  yer  sar- 
vice  ;  and  for  the  rest,  I  wish  I  could  tell  ye  it  was ' 
for  the  love  of  yerself,  and  not  the  yaller  boys,  I  did  it. 
Truth  it  is,  though,  that  I'd  risk  me  neck  in  this  way 
for  none  but  an  innocent  man  like  yerself,  now." 

"  Thank  you  for  that.  But,  if  not  to  you,  to  whom, 
then,  am  I  indebted,  my  friend  ?  " 

"  There's  the  rub,  darlint.  I  swore  by  the  holy  poker 
not  to  divulge  the  jintleman's  name.  I'll  whisper  in 
yer  left  ear,  however,  that  he  wore  stars  on  his  shoulder- 
straps  ;  and  this  child  suspicioned  that  he  did  it  for  the 
love  of  the  bright  eyes  that  looked  inter  yer  prison  anon. 
Any  way,  ye  are  to  write  her  a  little  billet  that  yer  safe 
and  sound,  for  me  to  take  back  to  her ; "  and  he  produced 
a  pencil  and  memorandum-book,  on  a  stray  leaf  of  which 
Harry  scribbled,  — 
13 


146      THE  REBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"  Dear  C.  —  I  am  safe  beyond  tlie  inner  lines  of  tlic 

enemy.     God  grant  that  I  may  get  safely  beyond  the 

outer  ones;  and  you,  too,  dear  C. 

"  H." 

"  Strange,"  he  mused,  "  that  Catharine  should  know 
of  my  intended  escape,  and  probably  helped  to  plan  it.  — • 
But  what  am  I  to  do  now,  ^Iv.  Flannegan  ?  As  soon  as 
the  alarm  is  given,  they  will  scour  the  whole  country  in 
search  of  me ;  and  luck}''  shall  I  be  to  keep  out  of  their 
cruel  hands." 

•'  Ah  !  the  jintleman  has  pervided  for  all  that.  There, 
I  hear  the  click  of  steel-clad  hoofs." 

Harry  started  up  in  alarm,  thinking  the  patrols  were 
after  him. 

"Whist !  I  spects  it's  the  old  nigger  with  the  bosses. 
Jist  step  behind  them  bushes,  and  I'll  see." 

He  returned  presently,  exclaiming,  "  Bless  yer  lucky 
stars !  it's  Old  jSTick,  sure  enough  ;  and  he  knows  all 
the  roads  from  Dan  to  Barsheba.  He'll  get  ye  safe 
through,  if  anybody  can.  But  hurry  up  :  there's  not 
a  minit  to  lose." 

Harry  needed  no  urging.  They  soon  reached  the 
road ;  and  he  mounted  as  fine  a  horse  as  could  be  found 
in  the  country,  while  his  new  guide  was  mounted  upon 
another.  Both  were  well  supplied  with  all  necessary 
military  equipments,  as  well  as  food  for  the  journey. 

"  Good-by,  my  friend !  "  said  Harry,  w- armly  grasping 
the  Irishman's  hand,  as  they  were  about  to  part.  '•  I 
owe  you  more  than  words  can  express.  I  hope  no  harm 
may  come  to  you  from  this  night's  adventure,  and  that 
I  may  live  to  repay  you  at  some  future  day." 

"  Divil  a  bit  of  pay  do  I  want,  more  than  the  jintle- 


OLD   ACQUAINTANCES.  147 

man  gave  me ;  and,  as  to  the  liarrum,  I  guess  I  can  fix 
it.  So  good-by,  and  good  luck  to  ye  both  ;  and  may 
the  divil  break  the  necks  of  all  who  pursue  ye  ! " 

"Thank  you,  and  good-by,"  said  Harry.  The  next 
minute  he  and  his  dark  guide  were,  as  slowly  and  noise- 
lessly as  possible  at  first,  but  at  a  two-forty  pace  after- 
wards, dashing  down  the  road,  soon  leaving  the  Confederate 
camp  far  in  the  rear. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  rebels  were  terribly  ex- 
asperated, when  they  found,  at  daylight  next  morning, 
that  their  prisoner  had  escaped.  The  guards  were  all 
found  at  their  posts  guarding  the  empty  cage ;  but  the 
bird  had  flown.  And  yet  there  was  no  mystery  about  it 
when  the  place  was  examined  by  the  light  of  day. 
There  were  the  pigs'  nest  hustled  to  one  side,  the  trap- 
door plainly  visible,  and  the  underground  path  to  the 
cow-shed  easily  traced.  The  mystery  was,  how  the 
prisoner  could  have  got  his  irons  off,  or  got  away  with- 
out discovery ;  and  no  one  believed  he  could  have  done 
it  without  assistance.  But  "Who  was  the  traitor?" 
was  the  question  asked,  and  "Why  was  the  prisoner 
put  in  such  a  place  without  a  more  thorough  examina- 
tion ?  " 

The  guards  were  arrested  on  suspicion;  but,  as  nothing 
could  be  proved  against  them,  thej^  were  soon  set  at  lib- 
erty. Xo  one  mistrusted  ]\Iike  Flannegan,  who,  they 
all  said,  was  helped  up  the  ladder  in  the  guard-room, 
half-drunk,  the  previous  night ;  and  there  in  his  attic 
he  was  found  snoring  in  the  morning,  with  an  empty 
whiskey-bottle  beside  him.  Of  course  he  did  not  tell 
them  of  the  knotted  rope  by  which  he  had  descended 
aiid  ascended :  he  disclaimed  all  knowledge  of  the 
trap. 


148      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"Eaith,  and  what  should  I  know  about  thraps,"  he 
said,  "when  the  pigs  had  always,  since  the  memory  of 
man,  had  their  nest  in  that  corner.  I  have  never  both- 
ered myself  to  find  out  what  there  was  under  'em  be- 
sides fleas.  Only  an  infarnal  Yankee  nose  could  have 
scented  out  so  strange  a  thing,  in  my  opinion." 

Every  spot  about  the  camp  was  searched,  and  the 
country  scoured  in  every  direction ;  jet  they  could  ob- 
tain no  trace  of  the  fugitives.  When  it  was  found  that 
Uncle  Nick  had  also  disappeared,  it  was  supposed  that 
he  had  helped  the  prisoner  to  escape.  But  the  general 
had  been  too  cautious  in  his  plans  to  be  suspected  him- 
self, or  cast  a  shadow  of  blame  on  Catharine.  Harry, 
meantime,  with  his  unknown  guide,  was  scouring  over 
the  country  with  the  speed  of  the  wind,  —  not,  however, 
in  the  shortest  and  most  direct  road  to  Washington,  but 
in  an  entirely  different  direction.  They  followed  this 
break-neck  speed  for  some  time,  and  not  until  the 
horses  began  to  show  unmistakable  signs  of  fatigue 
was  their  pace  moderated  in  the  least.  Day  was  now 
dawning  in  the  east;  and  Harry  found  that  they  were 
entering  a  wild,  wooded,  broken  country,  very  different 
from  any  he  had  previously  seen  in  Virginia,  and  that 
the  road  was  growing  rougher  and  evidentl}''  more  un- 
travelled  at  every  mile.  They  came  at  last  to  a  high 
hill  that  overlooked  a  large  extent  of  territory,  on  the 
top  of  which  the  guide  suddenly  halted. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  found  a  stopping-place  at  last, 
my  friend,"  said  Harry;  "fori  began  to  think  I  was 
following  the  wild  huntsman." 

"  Had  je  rudder  staid,  an'  tried  de  strength  of  de 
rope  ?  "  queried  his  good  genius. 

"  No,  no  ! "  he    exclaimed  shudderingly,  just  as  the 


OLD  ACQUAINTANCES.  149 

thunderous  roar  of  an  alarm-gun  in  the  direction  of 
the  camp  announced  the  escape  of  the  prisoner.  Soon 
afterwards  they  saw  the  clouds  breaking  away  in  tlio 
east,  and  tlie  sun  rising  in  his  splendor,  —  a  gorgeous 
sight  to  behold,  yet  ever  after,  to  Harry  Hale,  fraught 
with  fearful  memories  of  that  eventful  night,  and  the 
glorious  morning  that  came  so  near  to  being  his  last  on 
earth. 

"No,"  he  continued,  after  a  long  pause,  and  silent 
yet  heartfelt  thanksgiving.  "Thanks  be  to  God,  and 
you,  my  friend,  tliat  I  am  not  at  this  moment  swinging 
from  the  end  of  a  rope  in  the  rebel  camp." 

"  You  come  mighty  near  to  it,  dat's  sartin.  You'll 
bo  luckier  dan  my  poor  dear  massa,  if  you  get  off  wid 
a  whole  skin.'^ 

"  Who  was  your  master,  my  good  man  ?  Seems  to 
me  your  voice  sounds  mightyfamiliar ; '^  and  he  turned 
to  look  more  closely  at  his  sable  companion. 

"  Ole  Major  Hunter  of  Hunter  Hills  was  my  master, 
—  the  best  and  kindest  one  dat  eber  breaved,"  said  the 
man  with  a  sigh. 

"Indeed!  Why,  he  was  Lloyd's  father,  of  whose  sad 
fate  Catharine  told  me  in  the  prison.  And  you  —  wlij-, 
as  sure  as  the  world,  you  are  my  old  friend  Nick ! "  and 
Harry  eagerly  held  out  his  hand,  which  the  other 
grasped  quite  as  warmlj^ 

"Yes:  it's  ole  Nick,  sure  cnuff,  Massa  Harry;  an' 
he  no  forgit  de  little  feller  dat  help  Grace,  an'  save  black 
Jett  an'  do  proud  Suveners  from  drownin'.  He  no  for- 
git Massa  Tedo  nuther,  or  loetle  Jessie.  An',  more'n 
all  de  rest,  he  no  furgit  Miss  Kate,  who  nussed  us  in  de 
fever,  an'  resk  her  life  tryin'   to  save  massa  an'  little 


13* 


150      THE  REBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRmE. 

Walter.  An'  it's  for  her  sweet  sake,  I'm  qiiittin'  ole 
Virginny  dis  day." 

"  It's  to  her,  then,  I  owe  my  escape  ;  is  it  ?  " 

"Not  zactly.  Nick  t'ink  somebody  help  for  lier  sake  ; 
but  he  promise  not  to  tell.  Here  is  de  puss  lie  send  to 
Massa  Harry ; "  and  he  presented  a  plethoric  one. 

"  Strange,  that  my  benefactor  should  so  shroud  him- 
self in  mystery ! " 

"Not  a  bit.  D'3'e  t'ink  a  big  high  ossifer  want  he 
neck  stretched  for  lettiu'  prisoner  go  ?  No,  no :  Nick 
know  better'n  dat." 

^'  But  why  he  should  do  it  at  all  is  what  puzzles  me." 

"  Ay !  but  it  no  puzzle  Nick.  He  say,  '  Poor  fel- 
ler !  he  no  spy :  he  innocent  as  a  lamb !  Nick  want 
to  help  git  him  off,  —  cheat  de  gallows,  an'  git  he  own 
freedom  massa  promised  ? '  Dis  he  sp.y  wid  he  lips,  but 
de  eyes  tell  Nick  he  care  noffin'  for  poor  prisoner,  but 
t'ink  all  de  worl'  of  Miss  Kate  ;  an'  p'r'aps,  if  he  let 
brudder  go,  she  'sent  to  be  his  wife." 

"Well,  I  can't  imagine  who  it  is,  but  I  suppose  it  is 
of  no  use  to  pump  j^ou ;  j-et  I  fear  poor  Kate  is  going 
to  involve  herself  in  some  way  for  my  sake.  It  would 
be  just  like  her  :  she  is  always  so  ready  to  do,  and  to 
sacrifice  herself,  for  the  sake  of  others." 

"  Dat's  a  fact.  Nick  allers  know  it.  She  tu  good  for 
dis  world, — tu  good  for  dat  man,  or  anybody  on  dis 
arth.     De  angels  git  her  bimeby." 

All  this  time  the  eyes  of  the  slave  had  been  roving 
over  the  varied  landscape  in  search  of  pursuers ;  but, 
seeing  none,  they  dismounted  to  rest  themselves  and 
their  horses,  and  take  a  lunch. 

"'  It  seems  to  me.  Uncle  Nick,  that  we've  been  going 
the  wrong  way  all  the  time,"  said  Harry. 


OLD  ACQUAINTANCES.  151 

"Dat's  a  fact/' Nick  returned.  "Yet  it's  de  right 
way,  arter  all.  Dey  look  eberywliere  else  for  us,  'fore  dey 
t'ink  to  look  here ;  an'  bimeby  we'll  come  round  inter  de 
right  way  to  go  home." 

After  this  they  went  on  a  little  more  leisurely,  until 
the  burning  August  sun  made  it  extremely  uncomfortable 
for  man  and  beast.  Then  they  turned  into  a  piece 
of  woods,  in  a  green,  grassy  glade  of  which,  beside  a 
spring,  they  picketed  the  horses,  and,  one  at  a  time,  lay 
down  to  rest  beneath  the  shadows  of  the  trees.  Here 
they  remained  nearly  the  whole  day. 

Nick  knew  very  well  that  lie  w\is  not  a  great  distance 
back  of  the  Hunter  Hills,  where  he  had  often  been  with 
his  master.  He  also  knew  something  of  the  character 
of  tlie  inhabitants,  so  contrived  to  avoid  passing  the 
dwellings  of  those  who  were  inimical  hy  daylight. 
Towards  night,  with  themselves  and  their  horses  re- 
freshed, the}^  set  out  again,  turning  their  course  to  the 
northward ;  and,  before  morning,  they  had  passed  over 
quite  a  long  stretch  of  mountainous  country. 

By  this  time  Harry  had  got  the  history  of  the  late 
military  and  other  operations  at  the  South,  as  Nick 
understood  them,  as  well  as  particulars  of  Catharine's 
late  experiences,  that  were  new  to  l)im ;  for  Nick  was 
unusuall}'-  intelligent  for  one  of  his  class  in  life.  Having 
lived  two  years  at  the  North,  and  boavded  with  Harry's 
mother  when  the  young  people  were  at  school  in  Glen- 
eden,  Nick  was  of  course  an  old  acquaintance  and  warm 
friend  of  the  famil3^  This  residence  at  the  North,  even 
though  it  was  as  a  servant  and  general  waiter  for  Lloyd 
and  Grace,  Philip  and  Nell,  had  served  to  enlighten 
Nick  on  a  good  many  subjects,  and  fit  him,  more  than 
slaves  are  usually  fitted,  for  the  freedom  that  his  master 


152      THE  REBEL  GEXEKAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

had  promised.  But  Major  Hunter's  death  had  been  so 
sudden,  that  Nick  was  doubtful  whether  his  will  was 
completed,  or  would  be  allowed  to  be  legal  by  the  rebel 
authorities.  He  had  a  shrewd  suspicion,  too,  that  he 
was  to  be  pressed  into  government  service  to  work  on 
the  fortifications,  —  a  most  unendurable  bondage.  So 
he  embraced  Gen.  Atherton's  proposition,  as  much  on 
his  own  account  as  on  Harry's ;  though  lie  felt  many 
regrets  at  leaving  poor  little  Walter,  and  indeed  the 
whole  Hunter  family.  He  loved  them  all,  and  his  life, 
thus  far,  had  been  an  easy  one ;  yet  freedom  was  dearer 
than  every  thing  else  to  him. 

Upon  the  morning  of  the  second  day,  they  had  a  very 
narrow  escape  from  a  party  of  rebel  cavalry,  whom  they 
evaded  only  b}"  leaping  their  horses  over  a  high  fence, 
and  hiding  behind  a  great  pile  of  rocks  near  the  roadside. 
Soon  afterwards  they  entered  a  fine,  fertile  tract  of 
country,  that  seemed  more  thickly  populated  than  any 
they  had  previously'  traversed,  as  Harry  remarked. 

"  Ah  !  Nick  know  him  well  enough,''  was  the  reply. 
"Before  long  we  come  to  Massa  Tremont's  plantation.'' 

^'  Tremont  ?  Not  some  of  Grace  Tremont's  rela- 
tions ?  " 

"  Sartin,  Massa  Harrj'.  It's  nobody  but  INIiss  Grace's 
own  fader ;  an'  Nick  spects  de  sweet  little  critter's  her- 
self up  dere." 

"  Indeed  !  How  glad  I  should  be  to  see  her  !  But  do 
you  suppose  she  would  know  me,  Nick,  after  seven  long 
years  of  separation  ?  " 

"  Nick  spects  jMassa  Harry's  own  mudder  not  know 
'im  jes'  now.  Pie  forgit  dat  when  he  took  up  de  sword 
he  lay  down  de  razor,  an'  dat  he  now  look  like  one  poor 
long-faced  he-goat.     Miss   Grace  'member  on'y   Massa 


OLD   ACQUAINTANCES.  153 

Harry's  smooth  face,  full  of  fun,  wid  rosy  cheeks,  dim- 
ple chin,  an'  curly  head." 

"  Oh  !  "  and  Harry  put  his  hand  up  to  his  face  despair- 
ingly, "I  forgot  that  I  hadn't  seen  a  razor  for  weeks,  and 
that  I  must  look  altogether  Jewish,  dirty,  and  unpresent- 
ahle.  So  I  think  we  must  give  Miss  Grace,  who  used  to 
he  au  unmerciful  hector,  a  pretty  wide  berth  as  we  go 
by.-' 

"  Nick  no  t'ink  so.  Leetle  Grace  lub  fun,  but  de  heart's 
in  de  right  place ;  an'  no  doubt  she  drefful  glad  to  see 
Massa  Harry.  Massa  Tremont  good  friend  tu,  —  good 
Linkum  man  ;  hate  rebellion.  Nick  t'ink  it  good  place 
to  stop  till  de  fury's  ober.  Dey  no  care  if  Massa  Harry 
look  like  one  big  buffalo,  if  he  good  Linkum  man." 

^'  Do  you  think  so  ?  But  how  is  it  ?  I  thought  Grace 
was  an  orphan  cousin  of  Lloyd's  when  they  were  at 
school."    • 

"  So  she  war.  Her  mudder,  Massa  Hunter's  sister,  die 
when  she  leetle  baby  ;  an'  Lloyd  an'  Miss  Lucy's  mudder 
took  her  home  to  Hunter  House,  where  we  all  brung  her 
up  till  she  went  off  North  to  school.  But,  when  she 
cum  back,  ]\Lassa  Tremont's  nuther  wife  die ;  so  he  took 
her  home  to  stay  wid  her  little  half-sister,  Helen,  v»ho 
must  be  a  big  gal  by  dis  time.  But  what's  dat  ?  "  he 
exclaimed,  reining  up  his  horse  suddenly,  as  a  succession 
of  shrill,  sharp  shrieks,  and  the  sound  of  rapidly-rolling 
wheels,  rang  out  upon  the  clear  morning  breezes. 

They  were  just  descending  to  a  large  stream,  spanned 
by  a  high,  uncovered,  arched  bridge,  with  but  a  slight 
railing  at  the  sides  for  the  protection  of  passengers. 
On  the  other  side  of  this  stream  rose  a  steep,  thickly- 
vrooded  hill,  up  which  the  road  wound  circuitously,  and 
from  which  the  unusual  sounds  seemed  to  come.     Before 


154      THE  EEBEL  GENEHAL's  LOYAL  BRIBE. 

there  was  time  for  a  tliouglit  of  escape,  if  escape  had 
been  necessary  or  possible,  a  close  carriage,  drawn  bv  a 
span  of  fiery  horses,  but  driverless,  and  with  the  reins 
dangling  about  tlic  horses'  heels,  came  thundering  down 
the  hill  towards  the  bridge.  Our  two  horsemen,  who 
had  just  passed  it  when  thoj  saw  the  carriage,  instinc- 
tivel}^  gave  them  the  road.  But  Harry,  who  saw  at  a 
glance  that  there  were  ladies  within,  and  the  danger  to 
which  they  were  exposed,  turned  lihe  a  flash,  and,  dashing 
after  them,  was  kicky  enougli  to  seize  the  near  horse  hy 
the  bit,  just  as  they  were  rushing  obliquely  across  the 
bridge  to  inevitable  destruction  below.  As  it  was,  it 
would  have  been  impossible  for  him  to  have  stopped  their 
wild  career,  but  for  the  rise  in  the  centre  of  the  bridge, 
or  to  have  held  them  a  moment  but  for  ISTick's  oppor- 
tune arrival,  commanding  ^' Whoa !'' and  strong  grasp 
upon  the  other  friglitened  animal,  so  mad  Were  their 
struggles  to  get  free.  But  ihoy  were  saved,  and  led 
panting  and  trembling  across  the  shaky  old  bridge,  and 
up  the  hill  to  a  safe  distance,  before  Kick,  who  guided 
them,  ventured  to  stop  to  relieve  tlie  anxiety  of  the 
wretched  inmates. 

"  But  who  are  the  inmates  ?  And  how  do  we  know 
but  what  they  are  our  bitter  foes  ?  "  thought  Harry,  as 
he  took  the  horses  by  the  bits,  with  his  cheek  pale  Vv'ith 
excitement,  and  his  h'^.art  beating  strangely,  as  Nick  pro- 
ceeded to  open  the  carriage-door. 

Nick  kuew  very  well  what  he  vras  about,  however;  for 
he  had  seen  a  pale  face  at  the  window,  and  knew  the 
horses  and  the  old  Tremont  family  carriage  very  well : 
so  he  was  not  surprised  to  find  Grace  and  Helen  within, 
pale  as  marble,  and  half  fainting  with  terror,  while  tl^eir 
black  servant-girl  lay  in  strong  con^oilsions  upon  the 
carriage-floor. 


OLD  ACQUAINTANCES.  155 

At  the  sight  of  Uncle  Nick's  black,  honest  face  at  the 
door,  joy  and  sui-prise  created  a  sudden  revulsion  in 
Grace's  feelings  ;  and,  overcome  by  her  emotions,  she  leaned 
forward,  as  she  had  done  a  hundred  times  in  childhood, 
laid  lier  head  on  his  shoulder,  and  gave  way  to  a  passion- 
ate burst  of  tears.  In  that  moment  of  joyous  recognition, 
and  deliverance,  the  prejudices  of  caste  and  color  were 
forgotten.  The  affection  engendered  in  infancy  displayed 
itself  to  Harry's  astonished  gaze,  in  defiance  of  all  the 
strict  rules  of  propriety,  that  had  for  years  been  instilled 
into  the  proud  little  maiden's  heart.  Nor  did  he  think 
it  surprising  when  he  came  to  know  that  she  thought 
they  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  rebels  or  guerillas,  in- 
stead of  those  of  tried  and  trusty  friends.  Uncle  Nick, 
too,  seemed  fluite  as  much  overcome  with  emotion  as 
herself. 

"  T'ank  God  !  T'ank  God  !  "  he  kept  repeating;  "  dat 
leetle  missy  saved ;  "  and  the  big  tears  rolled  down  his 
dark  cheeks  like  rain. . 

"I  do  —  I  do  thank  him,  and  you,  too,  my  dear,  old 
friend ! "  sobbed  Grace ;  while  Helen,  too,  grasped  his  hand, 
and  poured  out  her  fervent  thanksgiving.  Both  were  so 
bewildered,  and  overcome  w^ith  emotion,  that  they  did 
not  see  Harry,  until  Nick  turned  to  him  and  said,  — 

"  I  guess  Nick  have  to  divide  de  t'anks  witii  he  young 
friend  here  ;  for,  if  he  no  turn  quicker'n  litenin',  de  bosses 
got  off  de  bridge  for  all  Nick." 

"  Then  he  has  our  thanks,  our  fervent  gratitude,"  said 
Grace,  crimsoning  as  she  looked  up  to  find  his  eyes  fixed 
searchinglj'-  upon  her  face,  yet  failing  to  recognize  in  the 
pale,  careworn,  bearded  young  man  her  smooth-faced, 
merry,  boyish  friend  of  otlier  days.  But  Harry  knew 
Grace  at  once,  as  she  had  changed  far  less  than  he  ;  and 


156      THE  KEBEL   GENEEAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

lie  was  slightly  amused  by  lier  evident  attempt  at  recog- 
nition. 

It  did  not  take  long  to  explain  tlie  position  of  the 
young  ladies  :  they  were  in  great  trouble  at  home.  The 
judge,  their  father,  had  been  arrested  by  the  rebel 
authorities,  and  put  in  prison,  for  denouncing  their  usur- 
pations, and  declaring  his  loyalty  to  the  Union.  The 
slaves,  their  master  gone,  were  escaping  in  gangs  every 
day  from  the  plantation.  And,  to  crown  the  whole,  the 
guerillas  were  roaming  over  the  country,  murdering  and 
devastating  the  property  of  all  Unionists,  and  some  vrlio 
were  not,  their  crimes  too  evidently  winhcd  at  b}^  the 
rebel  authorities.  In  this  state  of  things,  the  3^oung 
ladies,  expecting  nightly  an  aLtach  from  tlie  desperadoes, 
had  decided  to  flee  from  the  neighborhood,  and  seek 
shelter,  as  their  father  had  advised  them  to  do,  with  tlieir 
dear  old  uncle  at  Hunter  Hills.  And  they  had  set  out 
that  morning  eavly,  with  the  coachman  and  two  armed 
outriders  as  an  escort,  intending  to  sleep  that  night  at  the 
house  of  a  friend,  and  reach  Hunter  House  the  next 
evening. 

The}^  had  come  but  a  few  miles,  however,  before  shots 
were  fired,  very  near  to  tliem ;  but  whether  at  them  or 
not,  they  could  not  tell.  Any  vray,  they  had  frightened 
the  horses,  who  started  so  suddenly  as  to  throw  the  driver 
off  the  box.  Then  they  ran  down  the  long  hill,  as  if 
pursued  by  the  evil  one;  while  the  cowardty  outriders,  it 
was  presumed,  sought  safety  in  flight. 

"  And  now,"  continued  Grace,  "  you  can't  think  liow 
glad  I  am  to  meet  you.  Uncle  Nick.  I  know  God  sent 
you  for  our  deliverance,  and  to  pilot  us  to  our  dear  un- 
cle's arms." 

jSI^ick  and  Harry  exchanged  meaning  glances. 


OLD   ACQUAINTANCES.  157 

Oh  !  how  coiiLl  they  tell  them  that  the  home  to  which 
they  were  flying,  and  the  friend  in  whom  they  were 
trusting,  had  passed  forever  from  the  earth  ? 

''  I  tell  you  what  I  t'ink,"  said  Nick,  swallowing  his 
emotion.  "  We  come  right  off  from  Hunter  Hills,  an' 
de  hosses  drefful  tired  an'  hungrj'-,  an'  you  gals  drefful 
scairt,  an'  rumfled  up ;  so  'twill  be  best  to  go  back  home 
a  leetle  spell  an'  git  rested,  an'  talk  ober  matters." 

'•'  Well,  just  as  you  think  best,  my  friend.  But  first, 
how  are  they  all  at  Hunter  Hills  ?  " 

"  Not  bery  well,  Miss  Grace,'^  said  Nick,  wincing  at 
the  question.  "  Nobody  dere  now  but  niggers.  Dey 
all  gone  to  Richmond." 

"  To  Richmond  !  Is  it  possible  !  What,  uncle  and 
aU?" 

"  All  gone,  little  missus,"  said  he  solemnly. 

"  Why,  I  thought  they  always  spent  the  summer  in 
the  country,  or  at  the  watering-places." 

"Ah  !  dey  used  to  did.  But  times  drefful  bad. 
Country  drefful  dangerous  jes'  now." 

'•It  is  here,  I  know,  —  so  near  the  lines;  but  we 
hoped  it  was  better  there.  And  uncle  is  such  a  kind, 
good,  influential  man,  that  we  felt  as  if  he  could  protect 
us  ;  and  so  did  father.  But  what  can  we  do  now  ?  Do 
you  want  to  go  to  Richmond,  Helen,  that  nest  of  seces- 
sion and  treason  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed !  And  I  am  sure  father  would  much 
prefer  that  we  should  go  to  Washington,"  she  returned 
in  clear,  sweet,  yet  decided  tones. 

"So  am  I.  But  I  can't  bear  to  go,  leaving  him  in 
captivity.  Perhaps  we  had  better  risk  it  to  remain  at 
home." 

"  Wliere  is  your  father  ?  "  asked  Harry  pityingly. 
14 


158      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

"  He  was  talven  first  to  the  county  jail,  where  we  vis- 
ited him.  But  he  has  since  been  removed :  they  will 
not  tell  us  where,  but  most  likely  to  Staunton  or  Rich- 
mond." 

"You  see,  there  were  people  here,  whom  his  sense 
of  justice  in  his  legal  capacity  had  ofifended,  who  were 
only  too  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  be  revenged  upon 
him,  and  get  him  out  of  the  way,"  said  Helen  sadly. 
"  I  fear  uncle,  too,  will  be  unsafe,  with  his  plain  speech 
and  known  loyalty.  He  will  surely  be  caught  up  by  the 
rebel  autliorities,  if  aunt's  friends  do  not  interfere  to 
save  him  ;  and  then  where  would  be  our  safety  if  we 
were  with  him  ?  '' 

"  I  do  not  thinli:  you  would  be  unsafe  in  E/ichmond, 
ladies,  at  present.  The  greatest  danger  would  be  in  get- 
ting there.  And  you  must  have  friends  there  aside  from 
your  aunt's  family,  —  even  among  the  rebel  authorities." 

"  I  don't  know  who,  I  am  sure,"  said  Grace. 

"Are  not  your  old  friends,  the  Athertons,  in  the  rebel 
service  ?     Why  not  claim  their  protection  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Grace  quickly,  while  her  cheek  crimsoned : 
"  I  could  not  do  that.  AYe  have  mortally  offended  them. 
And  that  may  be  one  reason  of  our  father's  arrest." 

"  Indeed !  Why,  I  thought  Philip  was  an  old  friend 
of  yours,"  said  Harry  with  a  questioning  glance. 

"He  may  have  been:  he  is  not  now.  I  have  none 
I  value  in  the  ranks  of  rebellion.  But  what  do  you 
think.  Uncle  Nick  ?  "  she  continued.  "  Is  it  safe  for  us, 
or  for  uncle,  in  Richmond  ?  " 

"  Ah !  Massa  good  man,  good  Christian :  he  safe 
whereber  he  go.  Young  pretty  Linkum  gals  no  bery 
safe  anywhere  in  Yirginn}^,  jest  now." 

"  Nick,"  Grace  exclaimed,  after  looking  at  him  search- 


OLD   ACQUAINTANCES.  159 

ingly  a  moment,  "  you  are  in  trouble.  Something  is 
the  matter  at  Hunter  House :  I  see  it  in  your  eyes ;  I 
hear  it  in  the  tremulous  tones  of  your  voice  ;  I  feel  it 
here ;  ^'  and  she  put  her  hand  to  her  heart.  "  Why  did  I 
not  see  it  before  ? "  Then,  after  a  pause,  "  Tell  me, 
is  dear  uncle,  too,  arrested  ? ''  and  the  tones  were  low, 
husk}^,  and  tremulous. 

"Dere,  Nick  neber  could  keep  noting  from  leetle 
Grace  :  she  allers  find  him  out.  He  hab  got  bad  news. 
Dear  old  Hunter  House  cotch  fire,  an'  burn  all  to  pieces." 

"  Merciful  heavens  !     But  the  family  "  — 

"  Dey  gone  to  Eichmond." 

"Dear  old  uncle  too?  0  Nick  !  there  is  something 
you  are  trying  to  keep  from  me,"  she  said  in  a  tone  of 
alarm. 

Nick  turned  appea,lingly  to  Harry.  Knowing  how 
tenderly  she  loved  her  uncle,  he  could  not  bear  to  tell 
her  of  his  death.  Harry,  understanding  the  mute  ap- 
peal, came  forward  pityingly. 

'•  We  have  indeed  a  sad  story  to  tell,"  he  said. 
"This  dreadful  war  fills  almost  every  home  with  sorrow 
and  woe.  Your  dear  uncle  has  been  dead  for  weeks. 
He  was  murdered  b^'-the  guerillas,  who  burned  the  man- 
sion, and  carried  away  every  thing  of  value  they  could 
lay  their  hands  on." 

Grace  was  white  and  dumb  with  grief  and  terror,  so 
long  that  they  were  glad  when  the  sobs  burst  forth. 
Helen  wae  pale,  and  awestruck;  but, knowing  less  of  her 
uncle,  she  did  not  feel  it  so  acutely.  When  Grace  grew 
calmer,  the  rest  of  the  sad  story  was  told,  as  well  as 
that  of  their  deliverer,  whose  identity  with  her  old 
friend,  Harry  Hale,  she  had  more  than  suspected. 

Just  as  they  were  preparing  to  turn  the  carriage  about, 


160      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRJDE. 

and  return  to  the  mansion,  poor  coacLy  came  limping 
over  the  bridge  and  up  the  road,  swearing  at  tlie  cow- 
ardice of  his  late  armed  companions.  He  had  seen  the 
hunter  who  fired  the  shots ;  and  thus  put  to  flight  all 
present  fear  of  the  guerillas.  His  ankle  was  badly 
sprained  by  his  fall ;  but  otherwise  he  seemed  to  be  un- 
mjured.  Helping  him  up  to  his  place,  they  were  soon 
on  the  way  to  Tremont  Hall. 

It  was  a  large,  handsome  wooden  structure  ;  and,  with 
its  towers,  balconies,  out-buildings,  and  shadowy  trees, 
presented  quite  an  imposing  appearance.  As  they  drove 
up  the  broad  carriage-sweep,  and  entered  the  gate,  a 
ludicrous  scene  presented  itself  to  their  view. 

Perched  upon  the  top  of  the  front  balcony  sat  the  two 
cowardly  runaways,  gun  in  hand,  watching  for  the 
enemy;  while,  within  the  mansion,  a  scene  presented 
itself  that  beggars  description.  They  had  spread  the 
greatest  consternation  among  the  slaves  upon  their  re- 
turn, by  the  report  that  they  were  attacked  by  the  out- 
laws, and  the  young  ladies  carried  off  by  them,  and  that 
they  had  barely  escaped  with  their  lives.  They  had 
heard  the  shots  ;  and,  frightened  half  out  of  their  senses, 
fear  and  cowardice  had  filled  up  the  picture.  At  sight 
of  the  carriage,  returning  with  its  new  attendants,  they 
slipped  down  from  the  balcony,  cowed  and  crestfallen, 
and  very  considerately  disappeared. 

As  soon  as  they  alighted,  the  young  ladies  ushered 
Harry  and  Uncle  Kick  into  the  mansion,  expecting  to 
find  every  thing  in  order,  as  they  had  left  it  a  few  hours 
before. 

What,  then,  was  their  surprise,  to  find  every  thing  in 
confusion,  and  the  house-servants  all  packing  up  their 
treasures,  in  anticipation  of  an    attack,  and   a   sudden 


OLD   ACQUAINTANCES.  161 

flight  from  tlie  premises.  The  halls  and  alleys  were 
lined  by  an  indiscriminate  collection  of  frightened  ser- 
vants, sacks  of  clothing,  baskets  of  provisions,  boxes  of 
trinkets,  bundles  of  bedding,  squalling  children,  weep- 
ing mothers,  barking  curs,  mewing  cats,  and  frisking 
kittens;  all  contributing  to  make  it  a  very  pandemo- 
nium. Here  sat  Phillis,  upon  the  top  of  a  big  bundle, 
weeping  bitterly;  while  TuU,  with' his  effects  strapped 
upon  his  back,  was  trying  to  afford  her  Christian  conso- 
lation. Chloe,  more,  resolute  in  spirit,  was  brandishing 
a  frying-pan  over  the  head  of  an  obstreperous  youngster, 
and  threatening  death  to  all  the  outlaws  in  Christendom 
who  should  harm  him.  Betty,  the  housekeeper,  more 
intent  upon  the  interests  of  the  family,  was  packing  a 
big  basket  with  her  young  mistresses'  best  bonnets  and 
dresses,  interspersed  with  various  cakes  and  condiments, 
jars  and  bottles  of  her  own,  that  altogether  would  have 
made  a  heavy  burden  for  any  mule  on  the  plantation. 
The  fat  old  cook,  too,  had  her  budgets  surmounted  by 
a  good-sized  nest  of  pots,  tin  kettles,  and  sauce-pans. 
But  the  crowning  glor}^  of  the  whole  troop  was  the  big 
bundle  of  Nett,  upon  the  top  of  which  was  strapped  the 
great  tin  oven ;  inside  of  which,  nearly  smothered  with 
pillows,  was  snuggled  her  cute  little  black  baby,  with 
a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  roast  of  meat  still  warm  from 
its  late  slight  exposure  to  the  kitchen  fire.  The  little 
youngster  was  kicking  and  crowing,  and  clutching  at 
the  bright  new  tin ;  and  seemed  delighted  with  his  fine 
quarters.  A  more  laughable  or  mirth-provoking  scene 
could  scarcely  be  imagined.  And,  in  spite  of  their  grief 
and  trouble,  the  new-comers  did  laugh  uproariously. 

"  What  in  the  world  is  the  meaning  of  all    this  ?  " 
Grace  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  she  could  find  her  voice, 
11* 


162      THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"  O"  missis !  Little  missy !  Good  gracious  !  "  they 
all  exclaimed  in  a  breath.  "  Lord}^  massy  !  We  tought 
de  grillers  got  ye  bofe  sure  ;  an'  comiu'  arter  us  ebery 
minit ! "  and  they  all  crowded  around  the  young  ladies, 
testifying  their  joy  at  their  return  in  every  look  and 
tone. 

"  So  those  cowardly  rascals  came  back  and  frightened 
you  all  out  of  your  senses ;  did  they  ?  But  calm  your 
fears.  There's  not  an  outlaw  within  a  hundred  miles  of 
us,  I'll  venture  to  say.  Some  poor  loafer  fired  two  or 
three  shots  at  a  squirrel,  so  near  that  it  frightened  our 
horses ;  and  they  threw  poor  coachy  off  the  box,  and  ran 
away  with  us.  They  came  very  near  dashing  us  off  the 
Old  Murder  E,un  Bridge,  and  but  for  Uncle  ]N"ick  and 
this  young  gentleman,  who  were  coming  from  Hunter 
Hills,  we  should  have  been  killed.  But  poor  Jack  got 
his  ankle  sprained ;  and  I  want  you,  Aunt  Betty,  to 
doctor  it  up,  and  take  care  of  dear  Uncle  Nick ;  while 
the  rest  of  you  clear  away  this  wreck  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble." Saying  which,  Grace  led  the  way  into  the  parlor, 
to  entertain  her  new  and  welcome  guest. 

Grace  was  delighted  to  see  Harry  once  more,  and  had  a 
hundred  questions  to  ask  concerning  the  friends  and  scenes 
of  other  days,  as  well  as  the  weightier  and  more  em- 
barrassing ones  of  the  present  time.  Begarding  these, 
Uncle  Nick  was  at  last  called  in  for  a  consultation. 

Ignorant  of  the  fate  of  their  father,  knowing  that 
their  secession  neighbors  were  inimical,  and  spies  upon 
all  their  actions,  and  considering  the  terrible  state  of  the 
country,  the  young  ladies  were  afraid  to  remain  in  their 
present  quarters.  So  it  was  decided  at  last  that  they 
should  set  out  that  very  night,  on  horseback,  with  Uncle 
Nick  and  Harry,  for  the  Union  lines.     As  spies  were 


OLD  ACQUAINTANCES.  163 

said  to  be  in  almost  every  liouseholdj  they  took  no  one 
into  their  confidence  but  the  overseer  and  Aunt  Betty, 
whom  they  thought  the3'^  could  trust ;  and  their  prepara- 
tions were  made  very  quietly.  They  knew  it  would  be 
a  dangerous  adventure  ;  but  both  ladies  were  at  home  in 
the  saddle,  of  good  courage,  and  ready,  as  they  said,  to 
fight  or  run,  as  the  case  might  be. 

So  that  night,  when  the  lights  had  gone  out  in  the 
slave-cabins,  and  vanished  from  the  neighbors'  dwellings, 
they  set  out  on  their  dangerous  journey,  taking  with 
them  their  money,  jewels,  and  their  father's  most  valua- 
able  papers,  through  fear  that  they  would  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  enemy.  They  were  obliged  to  leave  the 
family  portraits,  however,  and  a  hundred  other  precious 
things  that  gold  could  not  buy,  —  never  more  expecting 
to  behold  them.  It  was,  indeed,  a  sad  farewell  to  the 
old  home. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

MAKRIAGE    OF    THE    EEBEL    GENERAL. THE   XOBLE 

WORK. 

*E  will  DOW  return  to  poor  Catharine,  who 
had  never  in  her  life  passed  a  more  wretched 
night  than  that  which  preceded  her  bridal 
morning.  It  was  the  night  of  Harry's 
escape ;  and  she  had  but  just  got  into  a  doze,  when  the 
morning  dawned,  and  she  was  wakened  by  the  alarm 
given  for  the  escape  of  the  prisoner.  She  had  believed 
that  he  would  find  it  impossible  to  escape,  that  he  would 
be  executed,  in  spite  of  Gen.  Atherton's  promises ;  and 
not  until  thus  assured  that  he  had  done  so,  and  she  re- 
ceived his  farewell  billet,  did  she  fully  realize  that  now 
her  part  of  the  contract  must  be  fulfilled. 

How  little,  alas !  did  Harry  dream,  as  he  dashed  over 
the  Virginia  hills  and  valleys  that  sweet  summer  morning, 
with  a  heart  filled  with  thankfulness  for  his  unexpected 
deliverance  from  bonds  and  a  fearful  death,  what  an  exor- 
bitant price  his  sister  was  to  pay  for  his  liberty  and  life ! 
It  was  a  price  beyond  all  computation  in  her  estima- 
tion,—  a  bondage  to  which  that  of  slavery,  in  her  eyes, 
was  far  preferable. 

Did  she,  then,  regret  her  promise,  mean  to  evade  the 
penalty,  or  refuse  to  fulfil  her  bargain  ? 

164 


MABRIAGE  OF   THE  REBEL  GENERAL.       165 

"No,  not  for  a  moment.  Harry's  life  was  more  pre- 
cious tlian  aught  else  to  her  then.  She  believed  he  would 
have  done  as  much  for  her  under  similar  circumstances  ; 
and  she  had  too  much  principle  to  falsify  her  word,  even 
though  it  might  save  her  from  a  fate  to  which  she  looked 
forward  with  fear  and  loathing.  Yet,  as  she  arrayed 
herself  that  morning  in  her  plain  gray  travelling-dress, 
—  her  only  bridal  robe,  —  she  felt  as  if  she  were  pre- 
paring for  sacrifice ;  and  the  tears  would  fall,  and  the 
idea  keep  returning,  that  poor  Harry  would  be  caught 
and  executed,  and  thus  render  her  sacrifice  a  vain  one. 

Gen.  Atherton  came  at  last,  flushed,  and  eager  for  the 
ceremon}^  that  was  to  make  them  one,  yet  evidently 
fearful  lest  some  untoward  event  should  rob  him  of  his 
coveted  treasure,  or  reveal  to  the  world  his  treason. 

"  What !  in  tears,  my  dear  Catharine  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
as  he  came  forward  and  greeted  her  with  a  kiss.  "  This 
should  not  be.  I  shall  teach  you  to  look  back  with  joy 
to  this  hour  that  gives  you  to  my  keeping.  Your 
brother  is  undoubtedly  safe  by  this  time ;  and  what  is 
there  to  fear  in  becoming  the  bride  of  one  who  loves  you 
so  fondly  and  truly  ?  " 

"Every  thing,"  she  sobbed.  "Every  thought  and 
feeling  of  my  heart  unfits  me  to  become  a  rebel  general's 
bride." 

"  Banish  your  fears,  my  Catharine  ;  for  I  have  none. 
We  differ  at  present  in  our  political  views,  it  is  true  ; 
but  I  think  I  know  you  well  enough  to  believe,  that, 
once  my  wife,  bound  by  the  most  solemn  vows,  you 
would  never  be  one  to  betray  your  husband's  secrets 
or  his  honor,  even  to  your  dearest  friends.  Have  I  not 
judged  you  truly  ?  "  he  eagerly  questioned. 

"  I  hope  so.     I  should  despise  myself  were  it  other- 


166   THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

wise.  Yet  that  does  not  fit  me  for  the  prominent  yet 
false  position  I  should  have  to  occupy  as  jrour  wife." 

"  I  have  no  fears  for  the  result,  Catharine.  You  have 
sense  and  intelligence  far  heyond  most  of  your  sex.  In 
dignity  and  queenliness,  few  can  compare  with  you. 
Your  manners  are  faultless,  so  far  as  I  have  observed 
them.  In  beauty,  there  are  none  to  compare  with  you 
in  my  eyes.  I  shall  be  only  too  proud  to  present  you  to 
the  world  as  my  wife.  So  pray  repress  your  sobs,  and 
try  and  look  forward  more  hopefully  to  a  future  I  shall 
endeavor  to  make  bright  and  happy  for  you.  My  friends 
will  soon  be  here ;  and  I  cannot  bear  to  have  them  think 
I  wed  an  unwilling  bride.  It  might  excite  suspicions, 
too,  that  neither  you  nor  I  would  care  to  arouse ;  so  I 
beg,  I  entreat,  of  you,  for  your  own  sake,  and  that  of  the 
name  you  are  soon  to  bear,  to  dry  your  tears,  and,  by 
your  own  quiet  dignity,  justify  to  them  my  choice  of  a 
wife." 

There  was  something  in  those  words  and  tones  of  pas- 
sionate entreaty,  —  a  compelling  power  in  the  stern, 
serious,  yet  admiring  eyes  to  which  she  could  not  help 
raising  her  own,  —  that  hushed  the  rising  tempest  of 
sobs,  and  made  Catharine  say,  "I  will  ivy  and  do  as  you 
wish,"  even  though  she  felt  as  if  her  heart  were  burst- 
ing with  its  burden  of  grief  and  fear ;  and  she  had  been 
upon  the  point  of  kneeling  to  implore  him  to  spare  her 
the  fulfilment  of  a  promise  made  under  a  species  of 
compulsion,  and  bitterly  repugnant  to  all  the  finer  feel- 
ings of  her  heart. 

He  read  it  all  in  the  look  of  eager,  passionate  entreaty, 
and  in  the  fitful  color  that  faded  into  sudden  pallor,  as 
she  said  with  a  great  eftbrt,  '- 1  will  try."  And  it  cost 
him  a  keen  heart-pang  to  know  that  she  regarded  him 


MARRIAGE  OF   THE  REBEL  GEXERAL.       167 

with  such  deep  feelings  of  repulsion  and  loathing.  The 
thought,  too,  crossed  his  mind,  that,  hy  generously  re- 
signing her,  he  might  inspire  gratitude  that  would  ripen 
into  love,  and  in  the  end  more  surely  gain  all  his  fond 
heart  coveted. 

"But  no,"  reason  whispered.  "If  he  did  that,  she 
would  go  at  once  beyond  the  reach  of  his  influence.'' 
So  his  only  hope  was  in  securing  her  now  while  he  had 
the  power,  trusting  that  kind  and  generous  treatment 
afterwards  would  win  for  him  the  heart  and  fond  affec- 
tion he  coveted.  He  drew  her  down  beside  him  at  last, 
and,  by  soothing  words,  drew  from  her  a  reluctant 
promise  that  she  would  join  him,  wherever  he  might  be, 
just  as  soon  as  circumstances  would  warrant  her  com- 
fort and  safety,  and  try  to  be  to  him  a  good  and  loving 
wife.  And,  more  than  this,  that  she  would  not  leave 
the  Confederacy,  unless  compelled  to  do  so,  without  con- 
sulting him  regarding  its  propriety.  He  knew  Catha- 
rine well  enough  to  believe  she  would  endeavor  to  keep 
her  promises  when  once  made ;  and,  having  won  these, 
he  did  not  despair  of  the  full  measure  of  bliss  he 
coveted. 

The  chaplain  and  chosen  witnesses  soon  made  their 
appearance ;  Dinah  was  summoned;  and  the  ceremony  was 
performed  that  made  Catharine  "  The  Rebel  General's 
Loyal  Bride."  She  neither  wept  nor  fainted  as  she  took 
those  solemn  vows  upon  her  lips ;  but  she  was  as  pale  as 
marble,  and  her  heart  felt  numbed  by  the  icy  chill  of 
despair.  But  tlie  color  came  back  to  her  cheek  as  the 
general  warmly  pressed  her  hand  at  the  close  of  the 
ceremony,  and  made  her  look  into  his  eyes  as  he 
murmured,  "Mine  !  mine  at  last, — now  and  forever!'' 

The  chaplain  and  Major  Darwin  speedily  offered  their 


168      THE  REBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRmE. 

congratulations,  and  were  duly  thanked ;  but  Col.  Mul- 
ford  said  in  a  half-serious,  half-laughing  tone,  — 

"  I  suppose  I  ought  to  follow .  the  example  of  our 
friends  here,  general ;  but  I  assure  you  I  cannot  do  it 
with  so  good  a  grace,  for  I  must  own  that  I  do  not  like 
it  at  all  that  you  should  so  cunningly  steal  a  march  upon 
us  before  your  departure.  You  knew  very  well  that 
some  of  us,  in  your  absence,  would  be  striving  for  the 
prize  you  have  won,  and,  such  being  the  fact,  that  your 
chance  would  be  remarkably  small,  if  you  did  not  secure 
it  at  once." 

^•'  That  is  true  enough,"  laughed  the  general.  "  I  knew 
its  intrinsic  value  too  well  to  leave  it  to  the  chances  of 
surprise  and  capture  by  another.  But  don't  be  dis- 
heartened, Mulford.  You  know  the  old  adage,  —  ^  That 
there  are  as  good  fish  in  the  sea,'  &c." 

"Ay :  but  you  don't  believe  in  it,  or  I  either.  Yet 
I  must  try  and  be  resigned.  I  really  hope,  Mrs.  Ather- 
ton,  that  you  will  have  as  kind  and  obedient  a  husband 
as  I  would  have  been,  with  every  blessing  earth  or  heaven 
can  bestow." 

"  Thank  you,  for  your  good  wishes,  and  all  your  flat- 
tering intentions  besides,"  said  Catharine,  laughing,  in 
spite  of  herself,  at  his  odd  humor,  yet  knowing  very 
well  that  he  was  really  more  than  half  in  earnest  in  all 
he  said. 

The  gentlemen  bade  them  adieu  soon  afterwards  ;  and 
Aunt  Dinah,  who  had  been  a  good  deal  put  out  and  mys- 
tified by  the  whole  proceeding,  went  back  to  "Walter, 
muttering  to  herself,  — 

"  Dinah  know  noffin  'bout  it.  Can't  understan'  it  no- 
how. He  big,  gran'  gemman ;  look  like  king :  but  den 
he  so  old,  he  so  stern.     Dinah  know  Miss  Kate  'fraid : 


ISIAKRIAGE   OF  THE   KEBEL   GENERAL.       1G9 

she  scairfc  inter  it  someliow.  If  'twere  on'y  Massa  Lloyd 
now  !  lie  plagii}^  fool  to  go  off  in  dat  way  !  He  neber 
lind  anuder  INIiss  Kate." 

As  soon  as  they  were  alone,  Catliarine  sat  down,  pale 
and  trembling.  The  thought  that  her  destiny  for  life 
had  been  sealed  by  the  solemn  vows  she  had  spoken 
took  away  all  the  fictitious  strength  called  up  for  the  oc- 
casion. And  oh,  how  she  wanted  to  be  alone,  and  give 
way  to  her  feelings  unobserved !  He  went  and  sat  down 
beside  her,  put  his  arm  around  her,  and  pressed  his  lips 
to  hers  as  he  said,  — 

"Catharine,  you  performed  your  part  nobly.  You 
don't  know  how  proud  I  am  of  the  wife  I  have  won. 
And  I  know  you  would  forgive  my  seeming  selfishness,  if 
you  knew  how  strong,  how  mighty,  was  my  temptation  ; 
how  fondly  and  passionately  I  love  ;  how  impossible  it 
seemed  to  live  without  you,  and  how  fearful  I  was  lest 
another  in  my  absence  should  win  what  I  valued  most  in 
life.  Oh,  say,  Catharine,  that  you  will  forgive,  and  try  to 
love  me ! '' 

How  could  she,  with  all  the  secret  chambers  of  her 
soul  still  occupied  by  the  old  love,  which  she  had  tried 
so  vainly  to  cast  out?  or  while  her  rebellious  heart 
rose  up  so  bitterly  against  the  ungenerous  course  he  had 
adopted  to  gain  his  own  selfish  ends  ?  He  had  saved 
Harry's  life,  it  is  true ;  but  for  this  she  could  not  be  so 
grateful  as  she  would  have  been,  had  he  done  it  from 
more  noble  and  honorable  motives.  But,  whatever  his 
motives,  Catharine  knew  that  she  herself  had  made  the 
election,  and  really  chosen  her  destiny.  She  knew  that 
this  man,  however  unscrupulous,  was  now  her  husband 
and  life-long  companion,  and  that  from  henceforth  it 
would  be  sin  to  think  fondly  of  another.     She  had  con- 


170      THE  EEBEL   GEXERAL'S   LOYAL   BRIDE. 

trolled  lier  emotions  by  a  strong  effort  of  will  during  the 
ceremony  ;  but  the  sobs  kept  rising  in  her  throat  all  the 
time.  Now,  when  she  thought  of  the  irrevocableness  of 
what  she  had  done,  and  he  pressed  so  earnestly  for  a 
reply,  they  burst  forth  in  a  passionate  gush  of  tears. 

Naturally  refined  and  sensitive,  though  his  mind  had 
been  warped  all  his  life  by  untoward  circumstances,  he 
intuitively  understood  her  feelings,  and  sighed  deeply, 
as  he  thought  of  the  bitter  repugnance  she  might  feel 
towards  the  man  who  had  won  her  in  so  questionable 
a  way.  Tenderly  he  drew  her  up  to  him,  and  tried  to 
soothe  her  as  he  would  a  grieved  child. 

"  Pray  don't,  Catharine  !  It  goes  to  my  heart  to  see 
3^ou  grieve  thus,"  he  said.  "  I  understand  3'our  feelings, 
and  these  tears  are  a  bitter  reproach  to  my  selfishness. 
It  was  wrong,  I  confess,  to  take  advantage  of  your 
necessity  as  I  have  done ;  but  oh  !  I  will  try  and  make 
amends  for  it  in  the  future.  And,  if  the  most  unbounded 
love  and  devotion  can  win  a  return,  we  will  be  happy  in 
that  untried  future  to  which  you  look  forward  with  so 
much  dread." 

From  this  tempest  of  grief  he  won  her  at  last ;  and, 
wdien  she  became  calmer,  he  told  her,  as  he  had  never 
done  before,  all  his  plans  for  the  future,  both  for  her  and 
himself.  He  wished  her  to  remain  at  Mrs.  Hunter's 
during  his  absence ;  and  when  he^returned,  or  sent  for 
her,  he  thought  w^ould  be  the  best  time  to  announce  their 
marriage  to  the  world. 

Every  arrangement  having  been  made  for  their  com- 
fort when  the  time  of  departure  drew  near,  poor  little 
"Walter  was  carefully  removed  to  the  cars  in  his  uncle's 
strong  arms  ;  and  lying  there,  with  his  head  most  of  the 
time  in  Catharine's  lap,  he  was  carried  back  to  Richmond. 


MAERLVGE  OF   THE  REBEL  GENERAL.       171 

His  pallid  face  and  pitiable  condition  won  a  great  deal 
of  sympathy  from  the  passengers  ;  but  Gen.  Atherton'a 
protecting  care  made  all  other  attentions  needless. 

The}'- arrived  in  Eichmondat  last;  and  sadly  and  silently 
they  bore  him  into  his  mother's  desolate  homCj  — a  wreck 
of  the  brave  and  beautiful  boy  who  had  left  it  so  bright 
and  bloom  in  2:  with  health  but  a  few  short  weeks  before. 

Xor  was  the  home,  or  the  mother  to  whom  they  had 
brought  him,  less  changed  than  the  boy  himself,  as  they 
saw  at  a  glance  when  admitted  to  her  presence.  For  the 
most  poignant  regret  for  her  treatment  of  her  husband, 
horror  of  his  awful  death,  and  thoughts  of  the  danger  of 
her  boy,  had  nearly  driven  her  distracted,  and  made 
of  her  a  pale,  nervous  wreck  of  her  former  self.  She 
knew  they  were  coming,  and  thought  she  was  prepared 
for  it ;  but  the  sight  of  her  orphaned  boy,  with  his  ban- 
daged head,  sunken  features,  and  great,  dark,  mournful 
eyes,  affected  her  so  much,  that  she  nearly  fainted,  and 
had  to  be  removed  to  her  room ;  while  his  sisters  were 
overcome  with  grief. 

Gen.  Atherton  left  very  soon  to  attend  to  the  business 
that  called  him  to  Richmond,  but  came  back  for  a  part- 
ing interview.  Catharine,  as  she  had  promised,  awaited 
him  in  the  parlor,  when  he  came  down  from  his  sister's 
chamber ;  and  glad  enough  was  she  that  there  was  little 
time  for  leave-taking.  He  looked  grave  and  solemn  as 
he  came  up  to  where  she  was  standing  by  the  window, 
and  seemed  deeply  agitated  as  he  took  her  hand. 

"  Catharine,  my  dear  wife,"  he  said  tenderly,  "  if  cir- 
cumstances will  not  permit  your  wearing  my  name  at 
present,  it  is  fitting  that  you  should  be  provided  with  the 
means  of  locomotion  and  independence;"  and  he  placed 
a  well-filled  purse  in  her  hand. 


172      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's   LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"  Indeed,  Gen.  Atherton,  I  do  not  need  it.  I  liave 
enough  for  all  present  necessities,"  slie  said,  as  she  tried 
to  return  it. 

"  Nay,  Catharine,  you  must  keep  it,  —  if  only  as  a 
recognition  of  the  tie  tliat  hinds  us  in  one,  and  your 
rightful  claim  to  all  I  possess.  Your  wardrobe  was 
nearly  all  burned ;  and  I  want  you  to  fit  up  another, 
suitable  for  the  position  you  will  occupy  as  my  wife, 
and  the  journey  you  may  bt3  called  upon  to  take  by  and 
by.  Do  not  hesitate  to  spend  the  money,  or  ask  for  more 
if  you  need  it,  at  any  time.  Write  to  me  by  every  mail, 
if  you  can,  as  I  shall  be  deeply  anxious  to  hear  from 
you,  and  my  friends  here,  until  we  meet  again.  Ah, 
Catharine !  what  would  I  not  give  to  be  able  to  take 
you  with  me,  or  to  remain  with  you  myself!  If  you 
knew  all  the  anxieties  I  have  in  leaving  you  thus,  the 
bride  of  a  day,  you  would  pity  me,  and  wish  to  go  too. 
But  I  must:  it  is  time  for  me  to  go.  Won't  you  give 
me  one  kiss  of  love  or  forgiveness  to  repay  me  for  all  I 
resign  ?  "  and  he  drew  her  up  to  him  in  a  close  embrace, 
and  passionately  pressed  his  lips  to  hers.  ^'  God  bless 
and  keep  you!"  he  said,  ^^and  turn  your  heart  to  me  in 
my  absence,  even  as  mine  is  ever  turned  to  you,  and  filled 
with  your  image  always,     rarewell." 

With  a  face  flushed  and  deeply  agitated,  he  turned 
and  left  the  room ;  while  Catharine,  scarcely  less  so,  sat 
down  dizzily,  to  think  over  her  singular  position.  But 
she  was  not  one  to  spend  much  time  in  sighs  and  tears 
and  vain  regrets  for  what  could  not  be  helped.  There 
was  too  much  for  her  to  do  in  the  world  for  that.  A  great 
many  women  in  her  position  would  have  felt  justified 
in  breaking  vows  extorted  under  such  circumstances ; 
but  she  did  not.     They  were  sacred  in  her  eyes,  when 


MAREIAGE  OF  THE  EEBEL  GENERAL.       173 

once  made ;  and,  however  repugnant  to  her  feelings,  she 
resolved  faithfully  to  fulfil  them.  She  realized,  too,  that 
her  marriage  to  one  in  his  position,  when  known,  would 
put  much  greater  power  in  her  hands,  for  good  or  evil, 
than  she  could  ever  have  hoped  to  wield  in  an  humbler 
calling.  And  if  she  gained  this  power,  and  could  exert 
it  in  the  cause  of  liberty  and  humanity,  she  felt,  even 
in  that  bitter  hour  of  retrospection,  as  if  her  sacrifice 
would  not  be  all  in  vain. 

Mrs.  Hunter  was  oveijoyed  at  Catharine's  return  ;  and 
so  were  her  two  young  daughters,  for  they  all  felt 
acutely  the  need  of  a  strong,  brave  spirit  to  rely  upon. 
Tliey  begged  her  to  resume  not  exactly  her  old  place, 
but  that  of  a  dear  sister  and  friend,  with  whom  they 
could  at  times  intrust  the  care  of  the  household.  The 
servants,  too,  were  all  delighted  to  get  Catharine  and 
young  Massa  Walter  home  again  ;  and  he,  poor  fellow, 
could  liardly  contain  his  joy  at  being  once  more  among 
his  friends,  though  he  still  clung  to  Dinah  and  Cath- 
arine more  than  all  the  rest.  Of  his  fiither's  death  he 
could  never  hear  or  speak  without  a  shudder  of  horror; 
and  no  one  was  allowed  to  mention  it  in  his  presence. 
He  was  gentle  and  patient,  and  liked  to  have  tlie  family 
around  him  ;  yet  his  brain  was  still  weak.  He  disliked 
noise  and  confusion  ;  and  perfect  rest  and  quiet,  the 
surgeon  said,  was  the  best  medicine  that  could  be  given 
him. 

Catharine  found  tliat  little  Jennie  and  Fannie  had 
grown  very  old,  womanly,  and  careworn  during  her 
absence  ;  and  that  their  mother,  in  the  habit  of  relying 
upon  her,  and  full  of  her  own  private  griefs,  had  neg- 
lected   every   thing,    thus    devolving   upon   her   young 

daughters  the  care  of  the  household.     The  children  had 
15» 


174      THE  REBEL  GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

all  loved  tlieir  father  clearly :  they  could  not  speak  of 
him  without  tears ;  and  his  death  had  cast  the  first  dark 
shadow  over  their  young  lives. 

After  the  first  shock  and  excitement  of  their  meeting 
was  over,  Mrs.  Hunter  relapsed  into  her  old  nervous 
lethargy,  leaving  every  thing  to  the  care  of  others. 
She  would  shut  herself  up  in  her  chamber  for  hours, 
brooding  over  the  troubles  she  had  brought  upon  herself, 
and  growing  more  strange  and  taciturn  every  day.  She 
would  come  into  little  Walter's  room  every  morning, 
look  mournfully  upon  him  a  few  moments,  ask  how  he 
was,  press  a  kiss  upon  his  pale  brow,  and  then  leave  the 
room  until  evening,  when  she  generally  went  through 
_  the  same  ceremony ;  seeming  to  do  it  as  a  sort  of  pen- 
ance, and  not  from  her  old  motives  of  fond  aifection. 
One  morning,  as  she  was  leaving  the  room,  Walter  turned 
to  Catharine  with  his  eyes  full  of  tears,  and  said, — 

"  Why  is  it  that  my  mother  never  stays  with  me  now, 
—  never  talks  to  me,  —  does  not  love  me  any  more  ?  " 

"Oh,  she  does,  darling!"  Catharine  replied.  "But 
she  is  not  well  herself:  and  she  can't  bear  to  see  you  so 
ill,  sad,  and  suffering;  it  makes  her  worse." 

"But  it  would  be  such  a  comfort  to  me,  dear  Miss 
Catharine,  to  have  her  here,  and  sometimes  lay  my  liead 
on  her  bosom,  as  I  do  on  yours.  And  then  you  could  go 
out,  and  take  the  air,  or  do  what  I  know  you  are  longing 
to  do,  and  I  want  you  to  do,  so  much." 

"What  is  that,  dear?" 

"  Wh}',  to  help  take  care  of  the  sick  and  dying  Union 
soldiers,  whom  I  heard  Dinah  telling  you  were  treated 
so  cruelly,  one  daj^,  when  you  thought  I  was  asleep.  Oh  ! 
I  want  you  to  go  to  them  ;  and  I  want  mother  to  go  and 
help  them ;  and  I  guess  I  can  pick  lint  to  dre-ss  their 


THE  NOBLE  WORK.  175 

wounds  pretty  soon  myself.  I  can  hardly  sleep  for 
thinking  of  those  prisons  and  hospitals,  fall  of  sick  and 
wounded  and  dying  men ;  so  near  to  mo,  yet  so  very 
much  worse  off,  —  with  nobody  to  give  them  nice  food 
or  drink,  or  care  for  them  in  any  way ;  w^hile  I  have 
every  thing,  and  everybody  is  so  good  to  me,  — but  my 
mother  ;  "  and  the  repressed  sobs  burst  forth  with  a  vio- 
lence that  was  quite  alarming. 

"  Don't !  pray  don't  take  it  so  to  heart,  dear  !  Your 
mother  does  love  you :  we  all  love  you  very  dearly. 
And,  as  soon  as  you  are  well  enough,  we  w^ill  all  do  what 
you  desire,  and  what  you  guessed  truly  I  was  longing 
to  do.     Yet  I  am  sorry  you  heard  what  Dinah  said." 

"  -I  am  not  sorry,"  he  sobbed :  "  I  wanted  to  know 
the  truth,  which  nobody  w^ould  tell  me.  ]Si  ow  I  shall  not 
rest  until  something  is  done." 

"  But  you  do  not  realize,  my  dear  child,  all  the  diffi- 
culties in  the  way  of  my  doing  what  I  could  wish.  You 
are  hardly  old  enough  to  understand  the  jealousy  and 
bitterness  of  feeling  engendered  by  this  unholy  strife, 
which  would  at  once  cause  a  JSTorthern  lady  to  be  sus- 
pected, if  she  attempted  to  do  any  thing  for  the  comfort 
of  her  own  people.  Joined  by  some  Southern  lady  of 
distinction,  and  known  Southern  feelings,  we  might  per- 
haps arouse  holier  and  more  enlarged  sympathies  in  the 
hearts  of  the  people  of  Eichmond,  that  would  lead  them 
to  see  a  man  and  a  brother,  for  whom  Christ  died,  even 
in  the  enemies  he  commanded  them  to  love." 

She  was  interrupted  at  this  moment  b}^  a  bitter  sob, 
and,  turning,  saw  ]\Irs.  Hunter,  pale  and  agitated,  coming 
towards  them.  She  had  stopped  for  something  near  the 
door,  that  happened  to  be  ajar,  and  heard  it  all.  She 
advanced  tremblinglj^  to  the  bed,  and  exclaimed,  as  sho 
put  her  arms  round  Walter's  neck,  — 


176      THE  BEBEL  GEXERAL'S  LOYAL  BRmE. 

"  Oh  !  forgive  your  wretched  mother,  my  darling,  in 
that  she  so  sorely  sinned  against  you  and  your  poor  fa- 
ther. Oh !  she  does  love  you  as  her  life,  hut  has  felt  as 
if  you  did  and  must  hate  her.  If  you  don't  —  if  you 
love  her  still  "  — 

"  Hate  my  mother !  Oh,  never,  never ! "  sohhed  the 
poor  hoy,  as  he  laid  his  weary,  aching  head,  for  the  first 
time  since  his  return,  upon  her  hosom.  "I  know  you 
did  not  mean  to  do  it,  mother ;  and  I  love  you  all  the 
same.  But  you  will  help  dear  Miss  Catharine,  won't  you, 
mother,  in  all  that  I  want  her  to  do  ?  " 

"Gladly,  my  dear,  so  far  as  I  am  ahle.  But  then 
there  is  very  little  two  poor,  feehle  women  like  us  can  do. 
Our  dear  Catharine  is  alread}^  worn  out  with  doing  and 
suffering  for  us  all,  while  I  was  neglecting  the  duties 
that  ought  to  have  devolved  upon  me,  and  giving  up  to 
my  own  selfish  sorrow.  But  it  shall  he  so  no  longer. 
Beproved,  and  hrought  to  my  senses,  by  what  I  have 
just  heard,  I  will  henceforth  take  the  place  beside  my 
child  God  and  nature  assigned  me.  And  Catharine  shall 
rest,  and  get  the  roses  back  into  her  pale  cheek  once 
more." 

"  But  the  poor  soldiers,  dear  mother  ? ''  said  he  eagerly. 
^'  Our  Catharine  cannot  rest  while  they  are  sick  and  suf- 
fering all  around  her.  She  coiddn't  in  the  camp,  it  made 
her  heart  ache  so." 

"  Is  that  so,  Catharine  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Hunter,  taking 
her  hand.  "  Cannot  you  forget  others  long  enough  to 
take  a  little  care  of  yourself?  " 

"  Ah,  Mrs.  Hunter !  if  j'ou  had  ever  beheld  such  dread- 
ful and  never-to-be-forgotten  scenes  as  I  have  witnessed 
within  the  last  two  months,  you  would  not  ask ;  and  I 
know  your  kind  heart  too  well  to  believe  you  would  re- 


THE  NOBLE   WORK.  177 

fuse  to  do  all  in  your  power  to  mitigate  the  suffering 
caused  by  tins  cruel  war.  AYe  both  seem  doomed  to  suf- 
fer by  it  in  various  waj'^s.  Our  warmest  sympathies  are 
with  different  parties  and  opposing  squadrons.  If  we 
were  men,  no  doubt,  we  should  be  in  arms  against  each 
other.  .But  as  we  are  not  men,  and  belong  to  that  sex 
on  whom  devolves  a  heavenly  ministry,  may  we  not  join 
our  hands,  and  devote  our  best  energies  to  that  mission 
that  has  made  Florence  Nightingale,  and  a  host  of 
other  noble  women,  immortal?  You  know  that  I  am 
strongly  loyal  in  my  sentiments ;  yet,  if  I  know  myself, 
I  can  so  far  sink  the  partisan  in  tlie  philanthropist,  as  to 
see  a  common  humanity  in  both  friends  and  foes,  and 
perform  the  same  kind  offices  for  both.  And,  0  Mrs. 
Hunter !  is  there  not  Christianity  enough  among  the 
ladies  of  Eichmond  to  lead  some  of  them  to  this  noble 
work  ?  ^' 

"  No  doubt  there  is,  Catharine,  if  they  could  be  aroused 
to  a  sense  of  their  duty.  But  then,  with  all  my  cares 
and  troubles,  what  can  I  do  ?  ^'  she  said  in  the  old  hope- 
less, nervous  tone. 

"Mrs.  Hunter,"  said  Catharine  earnestly,  "3'ou  are 
just  the  one  to  arouse  them  to  a  sense  of  their  duty  to 
God  and  man.  Have  joii  forgotten  the  power  you 
wielded,  and  the  generals  and  statesmen  who  surrounded 
you,  but  a  few  short  months  ago  ?  Surely  no  lady  in 
Eichmond,  not  even  the  wife  of  the  President,  could 
exert  such  a  wide  and  ennobling  influence  as  yourself,  if 
you  chose  to  do  so.  I  should  know  my  work,  and  should 
not  hesitate  a  moment  regarding  it,  were  I  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Potomac.  But  here  I  can  do  nothinir  with- 
out  your  patronage,  or  that  of  some  other  person  equally 
influential,  who  is  not  afraid  to  set  a  noble  and  magnani- 


178      THE  EEBEL  GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BPJDE. 

mous  example  to  Kichmond  and  the  world  of  Christian 
love  and  forbearance  and  gentle  kindness  towards  those 
even  who  are  regarded  as  enemies." 

Catharine  had  touched  the  responsive  chord  in  Mis. 
Hunter's  bosom  at  last,  — the  ambition  for  pre-eminence 
and  distinction/  the  desire  to  be  first  in  a  good  work 
that  would  win  tlie  applause  of  the  world,  the  wish  to 
set  a  noble  example  for  all  inferior  people  to  imitate. 
And  even  the  real  danger  of  arousing  a  suspicion  of  dis- 
loyalty, and  consequent  persecution,  in  the  existing  state 
of  public  feeling  in  Bichmond,  had  a  subtle  charm  to 
such  a  troubled,  repressed,  but  naturally  ambitious  and 
active  spirit  as  Mrs.  Hunter's. 

-  We  will  do  her  the  justice  to  say,  however,  that  she 
was  really,  a  kind-hearted  woman,  though  not  one  who 
would  be  likely,  unprompted,  to  adopt  a  course  like  this. 
And,  if  Catharine  had  done  no  other  good  by  coming 
back  to  E-ichmond  than  arousing  Mrs.  Hunter  to  a  sense 
of  her  dut}^,  its  value  to  the  cause  of  humanity  could 
not  be  counted  in  gold.  For,  absorbed  and  half  crazed 
by  her  own  private  troubles  since  lier  husband's  death,  she 
had  secluded  herself  from  societ}',  and,  sliut  up  in  her 
own  rooms,  had  known  ver}^  little  of  what  was  going  on 
around  her.  Now  she  took  the  opposite  course.  And, 
being  of  an  enthusiastic  temperament,  she  went  into 
every  thing,  as  she  had  done  into  the  secession  move- 
ment, with  her  whole  heart.  Siie  had  receptions  almost 
every  evening.  Her  nights  were  spent  witli  her  darling 
boy,  and  her  days  associated  with  Catharine,  and  a  few 
choice  spirits  whom  her  influence  and  enthusiasm  raised 
up  around  her,  in  visiting  prisons  and  hospitals,  —  to 
which  her  influence  with  men  in  ofiicial  position  gave  her 
easy  access,  —  and  in  relieving  the  distresses  of  their  in- 


THE  NOBLE  WORK.  179 

mates  by  every  means  that  lay  in  their  power.  Enough 
other  hxdies  were  extending  such  benefits  to  Southern 
soldiers  at  that  time  in  Kichmond,  leaving  those  of  the 
Union  wlio  were  prisoners  in  their  hands  to  die  untended 
and  uncared  fori  So  it  remained  for  Mrs.  Hunter  and 
her  associates  to  take  broader  and  more  philanthropic 
views  of-  Christian  duty,  and  set  a  noble  example  of 
generous  kindness  to  those  they  considered  enemies, 
even  at  the  risk  of  sacrificing  themselves  to  the  fury  of 
popular  prejudice. 

Mrs.  Hunter  had  from  childhood  been  a  fashionable 
church-member,  and  read  tlie  responses  in  church  with 
the  most  devotional  unction ;  but  out  of  it  she  was  quite 
as  gay  and  worldly  as  the  dictates  of  fashion  demanded. 
The  change  in  her  seemed  all  the  more  striking  from 
these  circumstances,  though  indeed  a  perfectly  legitimate 
and  natural  one.  She  merely'  sought  distinction  at  first 
in  a  new  field  ;  one  thai:  pointed  her  out  to  the  world  as 
a  nobler  and  better  woman  than  she  roall}^  was.  And 
so  conspicuous  had  she  been  in  aiding  the  rebellion,  that 
no  one  thought  of  attributing  to  her,  it  seems,  any  but 
the  most  generous  and  philanthropic  motives. 

As  she  advanced  in  it,  and  familiarized  herself  with 
the  details  of  her  work,  however,  all  the  tender  and 
womanly  sympathies  of  her  nature  were  aroused.  Her 
mind  and  heart  enlarged  in  view  of  its  great  magnitude. 
Her  own  selfish  ambition  was  lost,  in  a  measure,  in  pity 
for  the  woes  and  sorrows  and  keen  agonies  she  daily  wit- 
nessed. Her  house  was  open  every  evening  for  the  re- 
ception of  distinguished  visitors.  Her  kitchen  became 
a  cook-shop,  where  Catharine,  who  thoroughly  under- 
stood  all   such  mysteries,  with  Aunt  Dinah,  manufac- 


180      THE  EEBEL  GEXEEAL's   LOYAL  BEEDE. 

tured  every  day  large  quantities  of  gruel,  broths,  jellies, 
and  other  dainties,  for  the  sick  and  sorely  wounded. 
Things  like  these  they  could  not  get  through  the  me- 
dium of  the  authorities,  whose  policy  dictated  starvation 
or  the  poorest  fare  as  the  surest  way  of  getting  rid  of 
tlie  Union  prisoners.  Mrs.  Hunter's  drawing-room,  too, 
became  a  perfect  workshop  for  the  manufacture  of  lint, 
bandages,  and  necessary  clothing  ;  in  the  preparation  of 
which,  the  precious  stores  of  old  linen  were  brought  out. 
Eyeiy  member  of  the  family,  down  to  little  Walter,  was 
actively  engaged  in  this  work  during  every  leisure  hour 
of  the  day,  that  was  not  employed  in  visiting  the 
wretched  but  deeply-grateful  pensioners  of  their  bounty. 
Mrs.  Hunter  had  still  great  influence  with  the  rebel 
leaders,  and  could  frequently  bend  them  to  her  views  re- 
garding the  amelioration  of  tlie  condition  of  the  sick  and 
wounded  of  both  parties.  And  those  views,  though  she  was 
unconscious  of  it  herself,  were  suggested,  moulded,  or  cor- 
rected by  Catharine  in  their  dail}^  confidential  intercourse 
at  home.  For  good  and  wise  reasons,  Catharine  did  not 
deem  it  prudent  to  make  herself  too  conspicuous  in  the 
work.  Though  she  was  Mrs.  Hunter's  head,  heart,  and 
right  hand,  she  appeared  to  others  to  be  only  her  execu- 
tor and  handmaiden.  Her  heart  bled  for  the  sufferiiig 
of  her  people ;  and  she  strove  by  every  means  in  her 
power  to  alleviate  them  by  calling  IMrs.  Hunter's  atten- 
tion to  them.  But  even  Mrs.  Hunter  could  not  always 
secure  the  attention  of  the  leaders  to  frightful  cruelties, 
and  abuses  of  power,  neglect  of  duty,  or  official  preju- 
dice, so  fierce  and  vengeful  were  the  passions  aroused 
by  this  terrible  civil  war.  Yet,  though  little  was  done 
ia  comparison  with  the  great  and  urgent  need,  those  few 


THE  NOBLE  WORK.  181 

noble  women  performed  a  good  and  glorious  work.  They 
were  the  means  of  saving  hundreds  of  precious  lives  j 
and  their  names  are  now  a  praise  and  a  blessing  at 
many  Northern  as  well  as  Southern  firesides. 


16 


CHiVPTER  X. 

PHILIP  ATHERTOX. THE  GEXERAl's  RETURN. 

S^EXEPvAL  ATHEETO:^",  meantime,  had 
|y  found  himself  placed  in  such  circumstan- 
*"^  ces  as  precluded  the  idea  of  his  joining 
^  Catharine  in  Kichmondj  or  sending  for  her 
to  meet  him  in  the  South-west,  for  several  months. 
Battles  had  been  lost  and  won ;  and  the  whole  Soutliern 
country  was  in  arms,  and  convulsed  as  by  an  earthquake. 
Travelling  had  become  so  dangerous  that  he  dared  not 
risk  a  long  journey  for  her  unattended ;  and,  besides  all 
this,  his  unacknowledged  marriage  stood  in  the  way  of 
his  sending  for  her  through  government  channels,  or 
giving  her  an  unsuspected  position  at  the  end  of  the 
journey.  He  wrote  very  often,  however,  telling  her 
what  he  was  doing,  and  always  deploring  their  sepa- 
ration. 

Catharine,  as  she  had  promised,  always  replied,  — 
detailing  their  present  mode  of  life,  and  all  their  small 
plans  for  alleviating  the  terrible  suffering  he,  as  she 
told  him,  was  doing  his  best  to  inflict  and  perpetuate  on 
a  thousand  times  larger  scale.  If  she  must  be  his  wife, 
and  in  that  way  be  joined  to  a  ministry  of  evil  and 
wrong,  she  determined,  from  the  first,  to  tell  him  the 
truth,  and  do  all  that  was  in  her  power  to  neutralize  the 

182 


PHILIP  ATHEETON.  183 

evil,  and  alleviate  the  sufFering.  She  secretly  rejoiced 
that  he  could  not  come  to  claim  her,  and  kept  hopin"- 
something  would  intervene  to  save  her  from  a  destiny 
she  dreaded  more  and  more  as  the  time  of  his  expected 
arrival  drew  near. 

To  increase  her  anxieties,  in  the  mean  time  Philip  had 
returned  to  Eiehmond,  temporarily  taken  up  his  resi- 
dence with  his  aunt,  and  was  again  perseveringly  suin^y 
for  her  favor.  He  had  come  back  quite  a  hero  in  his 
own  estimation,  and  that  of  some  of  his  friends.  He 
had  been  sent,  just  after  Harry's  escape,  with  a  company 
of  soldiers,  to  search  Tremont  Hall  for  the  treasure  and 
treasonable  correspondence  of  the  judge,  its  late  occu- 
pant, in  the  hope  of  finding  proof  that  would  condemn 
him  for  treason.  On  the  way  they  had  captured  Harry 
and  Uncle  Xick,  with  Grace  and  Helen,  who  were  on 
the  way  to  the  Union  lines,  and  taken  them  back  to  the 
Hall.  While  there,  searching  the  house,  and  his  men 
carousing  over  the  judge's  fine  wines  and  liquors,  they 
were  discovered,  and  in  their  turn  captured,  by  Theo- 
dore, Catharine's  elder  brother,  who,  with  his  company 
of  picked  men,  had  been  making  a  reconnoissance  within 
the  enemy's  lines. 

Philip  and  his  men  were  taken  as  prisoners  to  the 
Union  camp,  with  the  glad  and  rejoicing  Harry,  who 
was  welcomed  as  one  risen  from  the  dead.  Uncle  JSTick 
and  the  young  ladies  were  also  rejoiced  to  escape  the 
dangers  that  had  surrounded  them,  and  be  able  to  take 
up  their  residence  with  their  aunt  in  Washington. 

Philip  had  managed  to  escape  from  the  Union  lines, 
and  took  great  credit  to  himself  for  what,  if  they  had 
known  the  truth,  he  needed  to  be  ashamed.  But  he  had 
seen  and  captured  Harry,  and  been  captured  himself  by 


184      THE  EEBEL   GENEEAL's  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

Theodore ;  and,  by  magnifying  and  exaggerating  all  the 
circumstances,  made  capital  of  this  with  Catharine,  who 
was  so  anxious  to  hear  of  their  welfare  at  home  that  she 
gladly  listened.  But  when  Philip  came  back  to  his  old 
ground,  and  began  to  plead  his  love  for  her,  she  told 
him,  that  she  could  not  now  listen  to  such  words  from  him 
or  any  other  man ;  and  that  something  as  insuperable  as 
death  must  forever  divide  them.  He  thought,  of  course, 
she  meant  their  political  differences :  but  he  would  not 
for  them  give  over  his  pursuit  of  her ;  for  he  had  come 
back  to  Eichmond  on  purpose  to  win,  and  even  wed,  her, 
if  he  could  get  her  consent  to  do  so.  He  hated  Grace 
Tremont  now  with  his  whole  heart,  and  had  indeed  ac- 
cepted the  mission  to  Tremont  House  out  of  revenge ; 
but  Catharine  he  loved  with  all  the  fervency  of  an  im- 
passioned and  selfish  nature  that  was  ready  to  gratify 
itself  at  the  expense  of  honor  and  truth.  Pie  pleaded 
his  cause  most  fervently  the  very  first  opportunity  he 
could  get,  but  of  course  all  in  rain.  Prom  that  time 
Catharine  avoided  him  all  she  could ;  for  \o  be  the  wife 
of  the  father,  without  daring  to  tell  the  truth  to  the  son, 
who  persecuted  her  continually  with  lover-like  attentions, 
placed  her  in  a  very  unpleasant  predicament.  Angered 
at  last  by  her  determined  avoidance,  Philip  began  to 
revolve  dark  schemes  in  his  head.  In  the  fervency  of 
his  passion,  he  had  offered  marriage  to  one  he  thought 
far  beneath  him  in  the  social  scale  ;  and  his  pride  was 
exceedingly  galled  by  her  refusal.  When  his  mind  was 
in  just  this  state  of  tm-moil  and  irritation,  Catharine 
received  a  letter  from  his  father  that  fiUed  her  heart 
with  renewed  fears  and  apprehensions  for  the  future. 
The  letter  read  as  follows :  — 


PHILIP  ATHERTON.  185 

1\[y  dearest  Catharine,  —  I  am  coming  at  last 
to  claim  my  beloved  and  beauteous  bride.  You  cannot 
imagine  with  what  impatience  I  look  forward  to  the  hour 
which  is  to  make  you  really  mine  for  all  time  and  for 
^  eternity.  Oh,  if  you  only  felt  as  I  do,  what  joy  would 
be  in  the  thought  of  clasping  a  loving  as  well  as  beloved 
bride  to  my  heart !  Yet  no  man  can  love  as  fervently 
as  I  love  you,  without  inspiring,  in  some  degree,  a  kin- 
dred passion  in  the  object  of  his  affection,  I  still  believe 
and  fondly  hope.  I  shall  be  with  you  by  the  day  after 
to-morrow,  at  furthest,  and  there  will  be  time  enough 
then  to  announce  our  relations  and  future  plans  without 
troubling  yourself  about  it  at  present.  I  think,  how- 
ever, that  your  dread  of  the  announcement  to  Philip 
and  my  sister  is  needless ;  for  they  both  appreciate  you, 
too  highly  to  offer  any  serious  objections.  Jane  herself 
says  that  she  knows  no  lady  who  can  compare  with  you ; 
nor  can  she  ever  repay  the  deep  debt  of  gratitude  she 
owes  you  for  all  you  have  done,  and  are  still  doing,  for 
her  family.  In  any  case,  I  have  a  right  to  choose  my 
own  wife  and  my  own  destiny ;  nor  will  she  be  indebted 
to  them  for  wealth  or  social  position.  So  do  not  worry 
the  roses  off  your  cheeks  for  any  of  them,  but  keep 
them  all  for  me  when  I  come. 

Yours  ever, 

Edward  Athertox. 

Catharine  was  waiting  on  the  veranda  for  ]\Irs. 
Hunter  and  the  carriage  when  this  letter  was  presented  to 
her  by  a  servant  who  had  been  to  the  office.  Seeing  no 
one  near,  she  opened  and  read  it,  with  her  cheek  paling 
and  flushing,  and  with  every  evidence  of  strong  emotion. 

Philip  meantime,  unknown  to  her,  had  been  watching 

16* 


186      THE  EEBEL  GENEHAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

her  from  the  parlor  windows.  He  knew  slie  liad  re- 
ceived letters  before  ;  and  lie  liad  been  extremely  jealous 
of  her  unknown  correspondent.  He  had  questioned  his 
aunt,  but  without  eliciting  the  desired  information. 

"  She  has  a  good  many  acquaintances  among  the  offi- 
cers ;  and  I  think  she  corresponds  with  some  of  them,  — 
your  father  among  the  rest/^  was  her  reply. 

The  carriage  rolled  up  to  the  door,  and  Mrs.  Hunter 
came  down  stairs  almost  as  soon  as  she  had  perused  her 
letter.  Covering  it  with  her  handkerchief,  and  thrust- 
ing it  into  her  pocket,  was  the  natural  impulse  upon 
which  she  acted.  Philip  saw  it  all;  and,  more  than 
this,  his  eagle  eye  noted  the  fact,  that,  in  slipping  the 
handkerchief  in  so  hastily,  the  letter  fell  out  of  it  and 
^ver  the  railing  down  into  a  clump  of  twining  roses, 
without  her  perceiving  its  loss.  His  first  and  honest  im- 
pulse was  to  go  out,  restore  the  letter  to  its  owner,  and  help 
the  ladies  into  the  carriage ;  his  next,  upon  which  of 
course  he  acted,  was  to  stay  where  he  was  until  the  car- 
riage rolled  away  towards  the  hospital,  then  go  out,  get 
the  letter,  take  it  up  to  his  room,  and  at  once  greedily 
devour  the  contents.  How  little  did  he  dream  of  the 
terrible  surprise  awaiting  him  in  that  coveted  epistle ! 
and,  when  read,  he  could  hardly  believe  the  evidence  of 
liis  senses.     "For  a  time  he  was  fairly  sttinned  by  the  blow. 

What !  Catharine,  whom  he  loved  as  his  life,  marry 
his  father! — his  own  father!  —  a  man  of  more  than 
twice  her  age,  —  of  whose  love  for  him  even  his  father 
seemed  to  doubt ;  when  he,  young,  handsome,  rich,  and 
accomplished,  wooed  her  in  vain  for  his  bride !  What 
could  it  mean  ?  This,  then,  was  the  reason  "  as  insu- 
perable as  death  "  that  was  to  deprive  him  of  the  only 
woman  he  had  ever  really  loved. 


PHILIP  ATHERTON.  187 

That  liis  proiiil,  aristocratic  fatlier  should  condesceiul 
to  wod  a  poor  Yankee  governess  was  not  the  least  of  his 
wonders.  In  a  j'-oung,  ardent  man  like  himself,  such  a 
7)iesaUiance  would  he  much  more  excusable;  though  he 
was  very  sure  his  father  would  never  have  excused  it  in 
him.  Men  of  mature  age,  he  felt  sure  from  what  he 
saw  around  him,  were  much  more  ready  to  gratify  their 
taste  in  the  choice  of  poor  but  young  and  lovely  wives 
than  to  accord  their  sons  and  daughters  the  same  privi- 
lege. But  Philip  could  not  endure  the  thought  of 
having  Catharine  for  his  mother,  —  the  wife  of  his  fa- 
ther; and  he  walked  the  room  for  a  long  time  in  a 
state  of  excitement  that  defies  description. 

It  must  not  be  !  He  must  do  something  to  prevent  it. 
His  father  was  an  old  man,  and  he  could  not  love  Catha- 
rine as  he  loved  her ;  nor  could  she  ever  love  him.  In 
mercy  to  her,  in  mercy  to  himself,  he  7nust  do  some- 
thing to  prevent  the  sacrifice.  But  where  had  they 
met  ?  How  could  he  have  obtained  her  promise  to  be- 
come his  bride?  It  came  to  him  at  last,  —  her  stay 
under  his  protection  in  the  rebel  camp  at  Manassas 
Junction ;  and  he  cursed  the  day  that  ever  sent  her 
back  to  Hunter  Hills.  But  all  this  time  Philip  was  la- 
boring under  a  misconstruction.  His  father's  letter  was, 
unfortunately,  so  ambiguous  that  he  did  not  dream  of 
their  being  already  married,  or  he  might  not  have  done 
what  he  did. 

It  so  happened  that  !Mrs.  Hunter  forgot  to  read  her 
letter,  that  came  with  Catharine's,  until  after  her  return 
from  their  round  of  calls  ;  so,  when  they  all  met  at  din- 
ner, she  turned  to  Philip,  and  said,  — 

"  Oh  !  I  have  such  good  news,  —  your  father  is  coming 
home  in  a  day  or  two,  —  safe  and  well !  " 


188      THE  EEBEL   GENERAL' S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"Is  he  ?"  said  Philip  musingly. 

"  Yes  :  and  he  says,  too,  that  he  has  a  very  pleasant 
surprise  in  store  for  us  when  he  does  return.  What  do 
you  suppose  it  is  ? " 

"I  am  sure  I  cannot  tell.  Perhaps  Catharine  can 
assist  you,  —  Yankees  are  so  proverbially  good  at  guess- 
ing," he  said  with  a  feigned  laugh,  and  keen^  searching 
look  into  her  expressive  face. 

Catharine  ha^  looked  pale  and  anxious  ever  since  her 
return,  and  as  if  she  could  hardly  repress  her  tears. 
But  that  was  nothing  strange,  coming  from  such  sad 
scenes  as  she  had  witnessed  that  day.  Is  ow,  however, 
the  rich  color  flashed  over  cheek  and  brow,  as  she  said 
in  a  cold,  forced  tone,  — 

"  I  am  fast  forgetting  my  Yankee  proclivities,  Philip. 
I  can  fathom  no  m3^steries,  except  those  where  I  am  my- 
self concerned.  Among  all  the  changes  going  on  around 
us,  I  fear  I  shall  not  know  myself  much  longer." 

Mrs.  Hunter  rather  wondered  at  her  flash  of  color 
and  singular  reply ;  hut  Philip,  who  had  the  key  to  it, 
read  a  deeper  meaning  in  it  than  appeared  on  the  sur- 
face. And  he  also  read  in  Catharine's  averted  eyes  a 
deep-seated  feeling  of  pain,  and  dread  of  her  approach- 
ing fate,  that  he  wished  the  face  of  no  bride  of  his  to 
wear.  He  watched  her  closely,  yet  without  seeming  to 
do  so,  and  became  very  sure  that  the  heart  had  nothing 
to  do  with  the  sacrifice  of  youth  and  beauty  and  strong 
loyal  feeling  she  was  about  to  make.  Either  she  was 
doing  it  from  ambitious  motives,  —  a  desire  for  wealth 
and  position,  —  or  else  there  was  some  compelling  power, 
urging  her  on  to  the  sacrifice.  He  cared  little  for  his  fa- 
ther's feelings ;  for  he  had  no  business,  at  his  age,  to 
have  any  thing  but  a  fatherly  regard  for  any  woman 


PHILIP  ATHERTON.  180 

as  young  and  fair  as  CatliarinC;  lie  thought.  And  new 
claimants  to  the  Atherton  estates,  unless  they  were  of 
his  own  raising,  were  inadmissible  in  his  calculations. 
Philip  had  a  short  journey  to  make  that  same  afternoon, 
and  did  not  return  until  the  next  morning.  At  dinner 
that  day,  he  seemed  in  better  spirits  than  usual,  and 
chatted  quite  gayly  upon  passing  events. 

He  should  be  obliged  to  rejoin  his  regiment,  he  said, 
in  two  or  three  days  ;  and  he  was  rejoiced  to  know  that 
his  father  was  coming  home,  so  that  he  could  see  him 
before  his  departure  from  Kichmond.  Contrary  to  his 
usual  custom,  he  spent  the  afternoon  at  home,  with 
"Walter  and  his  sisters  ;  while  Mrs.  Hunter  and  Catha- 
rine, with  their  usual  supplies,  went  their  usual  round. 

Ever  since  her  return  to  Eichmond,  Catharine  had 
been  deepl3Mnterested  in  the  fortunes  of  a  young  couple, 
whose  wedding  she  had  attended  a  short  time  before  her 
departure.  The  young  husband  had  been  sorely  wounded 
at  the  battle  of  Bull  Eun,  and  had  lain  in  a  very  crit- 
ical condition  ever  since.  The  young  wife,  who  had 
been  one  of  Catharine's  best  friends  in  Eichmond  before 
marriage,  frequently  sent  for  her  now,  when  unusually 
alarmed  about  her  husband. 

Just  after  dusk  that  same  evening,  as  they  were  all 
sitting  in  the  parlor,  talking  over  the  events  of  the  day, 
a  servant  came  in  with  a  note  for  Miss  Hale. 

"  0  Mrs.  Hunter ! "  she  exclaimed,  after  looking  it 
over,  ^'  Mr.  Gordon  is  a  great  deal  worse ;  and  Emma  is 
very  anxious  for  me  to  come  and  spend  the  night  with 
her." 

"Well,  I  am  very  sorry  for  them  both.  But  you  are 
tired  and  half  sick  yourself ;  and  hadn't  you  better  send 
your  excuses  to-night,  my  dearj"  and  she  took  the  note, 
and  glanced  over  it  herself. 


190      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

/ 

"  It  would  be  cruel  to  refuse  in  a  case  like  this,"  said 
Catharine.  "You  see,  she  thinks  he  will  not  live  till 
morning.  One  can  see  bj'-  the  handwriting  alone  that 
she  was  hardly  like  herself  when  she  wrote  it." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  cruel  to  refuse  under  the  circum- 
stances ;  but  pray  take  care  of  yourself  as  well  as  you 
can." 

*^Why  cannot  I  take  your  place,  Catharine?"  said 
Philip  anxiously.  "  I  will  do  so  with  pleasure  to  save 
you  trouble." 

"Oh!  that  would  never  do.  There  are  men  enouG^h 
there,  no  doubt.  It  is  because  she  craves  a  woman's 
presence  and  sympath}*,  that  she  sends  for  me.'* 

''  Let  me  go  with  you  then,  and  see  you  safe  there." 

"Thank  you,  Philip  ;  but  it  is  altogether  unnecessary. 
I  shall  be  perfectly  safe  with  Mrs.  Gordon's  coachman." 

Philip  did  not  urge  the  matter ;  but,  when  Catharine 
was  ready,  he  attended  her  to  the  carriage,  helped  her 
in,  said  "  Good-night ! "  then  bidding  the  coachman 
drive  carefully,  it  was  so  dark  and  cloudy,  he  returned 
to  the  parlor,  and  spent  the  evening  with  the  family. 

The  next  day,  upon  the  earliest  train  from  the  South- 
west, true  to  his  announcement,  came  Gen.  Atherton, 
strong  in  the  hope  of  meeting  and  claiming  his  fair 
young  bride. 

The  time  spent  in  delivering  his  despatches,  and  re- 
porting the  progress  of  military  affairs  in  the  South,  to 
President  Davis  and  his  councillors,  seemed  intolerably 
tedious  to  the  expectant  bridegroom.  It  was  over  at 
last ;  and  then  he  was  driven  with  all  speed  to  Mrs. 
Hunter's,  where  a  joj^ul  reception  awaited  him. 

He  was  at  heart  quite  as  much  surprised  as  pleased 


THE  general's  RETURN.        191 

to  find  Philip  there.  lie  had  heard  nothing  before  of 
his  capture  and  escape,  and  supposed  him  still  with  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac.  He  was  glad  enough  to  see  him, 
• — glad  to  know  that  he  was  safe  and  well ;  yet  somehow 
it  dampened  his  spirits  to  meet  him  in  the  place  of  his 
lovely  bride.  It  was  not  the  fond  meeting  and  greeting 
he  had  anticipated  so  long.  It  made  the  announcement 
of  his  secret  marriage  much  more  difficult  than  to  Mrs. 
Hunter's  family  alone.  To  him  he  had  intended  to 
make  it  by  letter,  which  he  felt  would  be  far  less  em- 
barrassing to  both. 

He  inquired  after  Catharine  at  last,  after  Walter  and 
every  other  member  of  the  family  had  had  their  share  of 
attention,  and  was  told  the  circumstances  of  her  absence 
at  Mr.  Gordon's. 

"  Pray  send  for  her  at  once ;  won't  j^ou  ?  "  he  said  to 
Mrs.  Hunter.  "  I  want  to  see  the  whole  family  together 
once  more." 

"I  have  already  sent  John  to  make  inquiries,'^  she 
replied.  "  I  think  he  must  be  here  soon.  But  what  is 
it  about  that  pleasant  surprise,  brother?  I  hope  it  is 
yet  in  store  for  us." 

"We  will  see  presently,"  he  returned,  smiling,  and 
looking  out  eagerly,  as  the  carriage  rolled  past  the  win- 
dows, and  on  towards  the  stables. 

"  What  is  this  ?  Why,  John  has  not  brought  Cath- 
arine !  James  Gordon  must  be  dead  or  dying.  Tell 
John  to  report  himself  at  once,"  said  Mrs.  Hunter  to  a 
servant  in  waiting. 

John,  an  old  servant  of  the  family,  who,  like  all  the 
rest  w\is  very  much  attached  to  Catharine,  soon  pre- 
sented himself,  but  looking  particularly  dismal,  and  a 
good  deal  frightened  withal. 


192      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"Well,  what  is  it,  John?"  said  his  mistress  eagerly. 
"  Is  Mr.  Gordon  dead  or  dying  ?  " 

"  He  be  no  dead,  hut  bery  much  better,  mistress." 

"  Then  why  did  not  Miss  Catharine  come  home  ?  " 

"  She  no  bin  dere  at  all,  mistress.  Dey  no  send  for  her 
last  night  at  all." 

"  Good  heavens !  What  can  have  become  of  her, 
tlien  ?  "  exclaimed  Gen.  Atherton  in  alarm. 

"  I  am  sure  I  cannot  tell,"  said  INIrs.  Hunter.  "  We 
all  know  some  one  came  for  her;  and  I  saw  the  note 
the}^  sent  in  myself.  Catharine  remarked  some  singu- 
larity in  Mrs.  Gordon's  writing,  but  evidently  thought  it 
was  owing  to  strong  nervous  excitement.  That  note 
must  have  been  a  forgery." 

"But  there  was  no  collusion!  She  evidently  believed 
in  its  genuineness ;  did  she  ?  "  said  the  general,  half  in 
doubt. 

"  Certainly.     None  of  us  doubted  it,  I  am  sure." 

"  Any  more  than  we  did  that  she  was  worn  out  with 
watching  and  caring  for  others,  and  would  have  pre- 
ferred remaining  at  home,"  put  in  Philip  eagerly. 

"  Then  there  must  have  been  some  plot  to  entice  her 
away  for  some  infamous  purpose ;  and  I  tremble  for  the 
consequences ! "  exclaimed  the  general  with  a  sudden 
revulsion  of  feeling,  that  made  him  dizzy  and  strength- 
less  as  a  child.  He  sat  down  by  the  table,  leaned  his 
head  upon  his  hand,  and  turned  his  face  away  to  hide 
the  strong  emotions  that  no  one  but  Philip  keenly 
observed.  Could  it  be  that  Catharine  had  planned  and 
gone  off  in  this  way  to  avoid  him,  and  the  fulj6.1ment  of 
her  marriage-vows  ?  He  could  hardly  believe  it.  Such 
plots  and  intrigues  seemed  wholly  discordant  with  all  he 
had  seen  of  her  open,  truthful  character.     Yet  it  was 


THE  general's  RETURN.        193 

just  possible  that  her  dislike  and  dread  of  liim  liad  be- 
come so  strong,  that  she  could  not  feel  justified  in  pre- 
tending to  fidfil  vows  against  which  every  feeling  of  her 
heart  rebelled ;  and  so  she  had  gone  off  in  this  mysteri- 
ous way.  That  thought  gave  hini  bitter  pain ;  but  he 
did  not  harbor  it  long  before  another,  much  more  start- 
ling, presented  itself.  The  city  was  full  of  troops, — 
many  of  them  lawless  borderers,  wdio  would  hesitate  at 
no  crime;  and  Catharine,  so  young  and  unprotected, 
and  mingling  among  them  so  much  in  going  and  com- 
ing from  the  prisons  and  hospitals,  might  have  attracted 
the  attention  of  some  ruffian  or  ruffians,  who  had  in  this 
way  secured  her  for  a  victim.  In  either  case,  it  was 
best,  he  thought,  for  her  connection  with  him  to  remain 
a  secret,  seeing  it  had  been  so  thus  far ;  for  its  announce- 
ment under  present  circumstances  would  attract  more 
attention  and  remark  in  both  public  and  private  circles 
than  he  cared  to  be  the  subject  of  in  his  present  state  of 
cruel  anxiety  and  disappointment. 

'^  Oh,  dear !  what  shall  we  do  ? "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Hunter  hopelessly.  "  I'm  sure  I  cannot  live  in  such 
suspense  about  the  dear  girl,  or  hardly  live  without  her 
a  day.  You  cannot  imagine,  brother,  what  an  angel  of 
hope  and  blessing,  what  a  help,  support,  and  reliance,  she 
has  been ;  not  only  to  us,  but  to  scores  of  the  sick, 
wounded,  and  dying  in  Richmond,  since  your  departure. 
They  hailed  her  coming  wdtli  eager  joy,  and  looked  upon 
her  face  with  as  much  admiring  reverence  as  if  it  had 
been  the  face  of  an  angel.  Oh,  how  they  and  we  all 
shall  miss  her,  if  she  never  comes  back  to  us  !  " 

"  Well,  we  will  sift  the  affair  to  the  bottom,  and  find 
her  if  we  possibly  can,"  said  the  general,  starting  to  his 
feet  energetically.     "  The  city  is  under  martial  law,  and 
17 


194      THE   REBEL   GEXERAL'S   LOYAL   BRIDE. 

it  cannot  be  that  a  lady  can  be  abducted  in  this  mannei 
without  somebody's  knowing  something  about  it." 

"But  It  was  very  dark  and  misty  last  evening,  father; 
and  they  might  on  that  account  have  escaped  the  vigi- 
lance of  the  sentinels/'  said  Philip. 

"  Or  bribed  them,  more  likely.  Such  things  are 
oftener  done  by  men  of  high  than  low  degree.  And  we 
know  that  Catharine  has  been  a  shining  mark  for  the 
admiration  of  more  than  one  in  positions  of  honor  and 
trust." 

"  I  know  very  well,"'  said  Mrs.  Hunter,  "  that  she  has 
refused  offers  of  marriage  from  men  you  would  never 
have  dreamed  would  have  condescended  to  wed  a  poor 
Yankee  governess.  I  have  often  wondered  at  her  seem- 
ing indifference  to  the  advantages  of  fortune,  her 
blindness  to  her  own  Avorldly  interests,  as  well  as  her 
evident  feeling  of  equality  with  the  jDroudest  of  her  suit- 
ors. I  do  believe  she  loved  Lloyd,  though ;  and  I  feel 
sorry  now  that  her  affair  with  him  turned  out  as  it  did." 

'•She  was  certainly  a  very  remarkable  girl,"  said  the 
general ;  "  and  in  beauty,  grace,  or  intellect,  few  could 
compare  with  her." 

"  We  are  ready  to  concede  her  every  perfection,"  said 
Philip  rather  sarcastically  ;  "  and  I  am  readj^,  my  dear 
father,  to  join  you  in  any  search  for  her  you  may  think 
proper  to  institute  to-day.  To-morrow  I  shall  be  obliged 
to  return  to  my  regiment." 

"Then  we  will  commence  at  once,  my  son.  Too 
much  time  has  already  been  lost,  I  fear,  for  her  honor  or 
safety." 

They  did  commence  the  search  at  once;  and  every 
seeming  avenue  of  information  was  traced  up  to  its 
fountain-head,  without  eliciting  the  least  clew  to  her 


THE  general's  RETURN.        105 

mysterious  disappearance.  Both  tbe  civil  and  military 
arms  of  power  were  tried  in  vain;  and  large  rewards 
were  at  last  offered  to  obtain  some  knowledge  of  a  fate 
that  seemed  shrouded  in  mystery  and  gloom. 

The  general  and  others  at  last  settled  down  upon  the 
conclusion  that  some  of  Catharine's  Yankee  friends  had 
been  playing  a  cute  trick  upon  them  in  thus  spiriting 
away  a  jSTorthern  lad}',  who  rumor  said  was  about  to 
marry  a  distinguished  rebel  officer,  —  nobody  knew 
whom. 

The  whole  Hunter  family  soon  came  to  regard  Cath- 
arine as  dead,  or  lost  to  them  forever  ;  and  never  was  a 
friend  more  sincerely  mourned  or  missed.  Poor  little 
Walter  could  hardly  be  comforted.  Mrs.  Hunter  missed 
her  every  hour;  and,  if  brother  or  nephew  could  have 
brought  her  back  as  his  wife,  perhaps  she  would  not 
have  objected  to  the  terms. 

Never  was  a  man  more  suddenly  cut  down  or  keenly 
disappointed  than  Gen.  Atherton  ;  and  it  was  as  much 
as  he  could  do  to  keep  from  displaying  it  to  all  around 
him.  After  a  thorough  search  and  a  mature  deliberation, 
he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Catharine  had,  most  likely, 
found  some  unexpected  chance  to  return  to  the  ISTorth, 
and  had  gone  off  in  this  mysterious  way  to  deceive  Mrs. 
Hunter,  and  evade  her  duties  to  him.  Possibly  she  had 
gone  with  some  favored  lover,  who  might  be  equally 
cheated  with  himself,  regarding  her  secret  marriage.  He 
had  believed  in  the  duplicity  of  all  women  before  he 
met  Catharine ;  and  now  he  rapidly  drifted  back  to  the 
same  opinions,  and  inwardly  cursed  the  hour  that  made 
her  his  v/ife.  He  sought  active  service  now,  and  became 
a  much  more  zealous  and  active  partisan  than  he  would 
have  been  with  Catharine  for  a  companion. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE   ABDUCTIOX.  —  CATHARINE's    ILLNESS. 

'UT  where  all  this  time  was  Catharine  ? 

When  she  entered  what  she  supposed  to 
he  Mr.  Gordon's  close  carriage,   she  was  a 
little  surprised  to   find  that  it  already  con- 
tained what  appeared  to  he  a  female  occupant. 

"  Missus  t'ink  Miss  Kate  no  want  to  come  'lone,  so  she 
send  'long  Thetis,"  said  the  unexpected  attendant. 

"  She  was  very  kind.  But  how  long  is  it  since  your 
master  hegan  to  grow  worse,  Thetis  ?  " 

"  Eher  sense  Miss  Hale  come  away  dis  mornin'.  Thetis 
t'ink  he  die  dis  time." 

It  was  so  dark  in  the  carriage  that  Catharine  could 
only  see  the  dim  outline  of  a  hlack  figure.  She  knew 
Mrs.  Gordon's  maids  well ;  and  that  was  the  name  of 
one  of  them.  But  somehow  the  voice  seemed  unfamiliar. 
Yet  it  was  true  that  she  had  heen  there  in  the  morning, 
as  she  had  said.  Still  she  felt  no  suspicions  until  she  he- 
gan to  wonder  they  did  not  arrive  at  Mr.  Gordon's. 

"  We  seem  to  he  a  long  time  in  -getting  there,"  she 
said  at  last.  *''  The  coachman  must  have  lost  his  way  in 
the  fog.  But  there  was  no  need  of  it  here,  where  there 
are  street-lamps  all  the  —  Why,  there  are  none  here, 
as  sure  as  the  world  !  " 

196 


THE  ABDUCTION.  197 

At  this  moment  Catharine  became  conscious  of  an 
overpowering  smell ;  and  a  minute  afterwards  a  strong 
arm  was  thrown  around  her,  and  a  handkerchief  was 
pressed  to  her  nose,  that  must  have  been  strongly  satu- 
rated with  chloroform.  She  struggled  and  resisted  with 
all  her  might,  and  tried  to  scream  ;  but  a  hand  was  laid 
upon  her  mouth,  her  breath  came  thick  and  gasping,  her 
limbs  relaxed,  and  she  knew  nothing  more  until  grad- 
ually aroused  from  a  long  gap  of  unconsciousness.  Then 
she  found  herself  riding  along  a  country  road,  in  a  heavy 
military  wagon,  reclining  on  the  arm  of  a  tall  and  pow- 
erful man,  in  the  undress  costume  of  an  officer  in  the 
Confederate  service. 

Though  clouded  and  hazy  at  first,  her  senses  soon  re- 
turned, enough  for  her  to  remember  her  last  stifling 
sensations ;  and  then  she  became  terribly  alarmed  to  think, 
not  only  of  her  present  position,  but  also  of  what  might 
have  been  done  in  her  state  of  insensibility.  As  soon  as 
she  began  to  move,  the  man  spoke  ;  and  there  was  some- 
thin^  in  the  tones  of  his  voice  that  re-assured  her,  and 
in  some  measure  allayed  her  fears. 

"  Do  not  be  alarmed,"  he  said :  "  you  are  perfectly  safe, 
and  going  to  the  house  of  a  friend." 

"  What  friend  ?  "  she  eagerly  asked.  "  I  have  none  in 
this  country  out  of  Eichmond." 

"  You  will  know  in  time,  but  not  now." 

"But  why  this  — this  outrage?  Why  have  I  been 
drugged,  and  brought  here  against  my  will  ?  " 

"  To  save  you  from  a  worse  fate,  —  one  to  which  you 
were  looking  forward  with  dread  and  loathing.  Can  you 
understand  that?" 

"  Perhaps  I  do.     But  why  take  these    extraordinary 

measures  ?  " 

17* 


198      THE  REBEL  GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"  Pray  be  content  witli  v/liat  you  know.  I  am  not 
permitted  to  say  more.  I  am  here  only  to  oblige  a 
friend,  to  whom  I  am  under  infinite  obligations."  And 
more  he  would  not  say;  though  she  tried  more  than  once 
to  elicit  something  regarding  her  destination.  She  soon 
became  deadly  sick,  as  people  usually  are  who  have  taken 
chloroform ;  and  he  was  again  obliged  to  surround  her 
with  his  arm  to  keep  her  from  falling  out  of  the  wagon. 
He  persuade-d  her  at  last  to  take  something  that  tasted 
very  strongly  of  brand}^,  that  he  carried  in  his  pocket,  and 
the  draught  seemed  to  do  her  good.  They  rode  on  until 
nearly  daylight;  and  she  thought  they  must  have  gone  at 
least  twenty  miles.  Turning  off.  then,  from  the  turn- 
pike, they  came  to  a  broad,  shadowy  lane  that  led  them 
up  to  a  handsome  country  residence.  It  was  built  of 
stone,  and  surrounded  b}^  plenty  of  trees,  from  which  the 
leaves  were  falling  in  the  chill  November  dawn.  They 
drove  up  the  broad  avenue  a  part  of  the  way,  then 
stopped,  evidently  with  as  little  noise  as  possible.  The 
driver,  a  negro,  jumped  out,  and  held  the  mules;  while 
the  officer  alighted,  and  helped  out  Catharine,  who  at  first 
could  scarcely  stand. 

"  It  is  very  early,"  said  her  attendant :  "  yet  we  are  ex- 
pected ;  and  it  is  my  friend's  wish  that  our  entree  should 
be  as  secret  as  possible.  And  it  is  best  for  you  that  it 
should  be  so.  We  will  M'alk  in  as  quietly  as  we  can,  and 
allow  the  negroes  and  dogs  the  pleasure  of  their  morning 
nap." 

There  was  no  use  in  trying  to  resist  the  wishes  or 
commands  of  her  gentlemanly  attendant;  so  she  took  his 
arm,  and  walked  up  to  the  mansion.  At  the  door  they 
were  met  by  a  fat,  good-natured  old  negro  woman,  who 
welcomed  them  with  a  shrewd  grin,  and  took  them  into  a 


THE  ABDUCTION.  199 

• 
wanii,  handsomely-fumislied,  well-lighted  parlor.  Here 
the  gentleman,  after  hoping  she  would  experience  no 
harm  from  her  night  journey,  and  he  the  happier  for  it 
in  the  future,  bade  her  "  Good-morning,"  and  departed. 
Feeling  as  if  there  were  no  use  in  resisting  the  fate 
that  brought  her  there,  and  completely  worn  out  with 
fear,  fatigue,  excitement,  and  the  effects  of  the  deadly 
narcotic,  she  longed  for  rest.  Signifying  as  much,  she 
was  piloted  up  stairs,  and  ushered  into  a  handsome  suite 
of  rooms,  where  a  cheerful  fire  was  burning  in  the  grate, 
and  every  thing  looked  neat  and  comfortable.  She  sat 
down  before  the  fire  in  a  luxurious  easy-chair,  completely 
tired  out  and  chilled  through.  The  old  woman  took  off 
her  bonnet  and  wraps,  and  then  stood  gazing  at  her 
admiringly. 

"  Looks  drefful  pale  an'  sick  like,"  she  muttered ;  "  but 
'deed  she's  a  pretty  critter.  No  wonder  she  set  all  dese 
men-folks  crazy.  Don't  blame  de  ole  feller  a  bit,  or  de 
young  one  eider.  But  Chloe  t'ink  it  bad  bizness,  for  all 
dat" 

'•'  Of  whom  are  you  speaking,  good  mother  ? "  said 
Catharine  wearily. 

'•  Oh  !  no  matter.  Massa  say  Chloe  keep  still  tongue  in 
her  head  ;  an'  she  must." 

"  Who  is  3' our  master,  my  good  woman  ?  " 

"Missis  know  soon  enuf,  an'  like  him  well  nuff,  I 
reckon.  All  de  gals  du  dat,  Chloe  t'ink.  He  hansum  as 
a  picter.     But  won't  de  lady  hab  some  breakfus  ?  " 

"  No,  no !  But  pray  let  me  lie  down  :  I  feel  sick  as 
death."  The  woman  led  her  to  the  bed,  and  attempted 
to  undress  her;  but,  fearing  some  sudden  surprise,  she 
refused  her  assistance,  and  lay  down  in  the  dark  merino 
dress  she  happened  to  have  on  at  the  time  of  her  abduc- 
tion. 


200      THE   REBEL   GEXERAL's   LOYAL   BRIDE. 

Her  head  ached  iiitclerahly.  She  was  sick  at  the 
stomach,  with  every  wretched  feeling  engendered  Ly 
fright,  an  overdose  of  cliloroform,  and  the  cold  she  had 
evidently  taken  in  her  long  night-journey.  The  old 
woman  covered  her  up  warmly,  shut  the  blinds,  and  at 
last  she  slept :  but  it  was  a  fitful  slumber,  broken  by 
wild  dreams  of  rapine  and  bloodshed.  She  awoke  when 
the  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens :  but  her  head  and  bones 
still  ached  with  a  dull,  dreary  pain,  her  flesh  was  hot 
and  sore,  her  tongiie  was  parched,  her  cheeks  burned  ; 
and  she  knew  that  she  had  taken  a  heavy  cold,  and 
was  threatened  with  fever.  She  did  not  regret  it  much, 
except  for  her  unpleasant  sensations  ;  for  she  felt  so 
wretched  mentally,  that  she  hardly  cared  what  became 
of  her.  She  did  not  forget  that  this  was  the  day  he  was 
coming,  —  her  lord  and  master;  and  there  was  a  feeling 
of  relief  in  the  thoug^ht  that  she  was  far  awav,  and 
probably  out  of  his  reach. 

Yet  he  was  her  husband ;  and,  if  they  were  ever  to 
meet,  she  did  not  like  the  idea  of  his  thinking  that  she 
had  fled  from  Richmond  to  get  out  of  his  way,  as  she 
was  sure  he  must  under  the  circumstances.  That  she 
had  been  forcibl}^  abducted  for  that  reason,  she  could  not 
doubt.  But  who  could  have  known  the  facts,  or  cared 
to  take  advantage  of  them  in  that  way,  she  could  not 
imagine.  At  last  she  thought  of  the  letter,  the  loss  of 
which  had  given  her  a  good  deal  of  uneasiness ;  and 
that  partially  solved  the  mystery.  Some  one  who  felt 
an  interest  in  her  must  have  found  it ;  and,  guessing  her 
feelings,  had  contrived  this  plan  to  get  her  out  of  her 
husband's  way.  She  felt  so  ill  that  she  kept  her  bed  the 
greater  part  of  the  day,  and  did  not  attempt  to  leave  the 
room.     The  old  negro  woman  brought  her  every  thing  she 


THE  ABDUCTION.  201 

wanted,  wlilcli  was  not  much,  but  refused  to  enlighten 
her  as  to  her  employers,  or  their  motives,  if  she  knew 
them.  Tlie  prospect  from  her  windows  was  very 
beautiful,  overlooking,  as  it  did,  a  fine  extent  of  coun- 
try;  though  the  sear  foliage  of  the  deciduous  trees, 
and  added  brilliancy  of  the  evergreens,  testified  to  the 
near  approach  of  winter.  She  thought  of  escape;  but, 
too  sick  to  entertain  that  thought  long,  she  tacitly  re- 
signed herself  to  her  destiny.  That  night  passed  in 
much  the  same  manner  as  the  morning.  Still  she  was 
no  better  when  it  was  over,  though  able  to  walk  about 
the  room.  She  still  thought  of  escape,  but  was  too  mis- 
erable to  care  much  about  it,  so  long  as  she  was  undis- 
turbed by  noise,  or  the  arrival  of  troublesome  visitors. 
There  were  plenty  of  books  in  the  room,  and  she  tried 
to  read;  but  it  made  her  head  and  eyes  ache  worse,  and 
she  could  fix  her  mind  on  nothing  long.  The  mornin"- 
dragged  slowly  away.  When  her  nice  dinner  was 
brought  in,  it  was  hardly  tasted. 

At  last  she  heard  the  clock  strike  one,  and  soon  after 
the  roll  of  carriage-wheels  up  the  avenue.  Her  pulses 
now  beat  high  with  excitement  as  well  as  fever;  but 
her  windows  were  so  situated  that  she  could  see  nothin^^ 
of  the  arrival.  She  heard  the  murmur  of  voices ;  the 
tread  of  feet  in  the  halls  and  alleys,  and  up  and  down 
the  stairs;  the  clatter  of  dishes,  and  moving  of  tables; 
and  at  last  grew  so  anxious,  that  she  thought  she  would 
step  out  into  the  hall  to  listen.  For  the  first  time  she 
attempted  to  open  the  door  of  her  chamber,  but  found, 
to  her  surprise,  that  it  was  bolted  on  the  outside,  and 
she  was  a  prisoner.  Chloe  had  been  coming  and  going 
so  often,  that  she  had  not  mistrusted  it  before.  The 
shock  to  her  feelings  was  so  great  that  she  could  scarcely 


202      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAE  BEIDE. 

stand.  "Weak,  nervous,  and  terrified  at  the  thought, 
she  sunk  down  upon  the  lounge,  laid  her  face  upon  liel 
clasped  hands,  and  burst  into  tears. 

And  thus  it  was  that  Philip  Atherton  found  her  when, 
preceded  by  Chloe,  a  few  minutes  later,  he  entered  the 
room. 

"What,  in  tears,  Catharine!"  he  exclaimed,  as  he 
came  and  sat  down  beside  her,  and  attempted  to  take 
her  hand.  "  I  am  surprised.  I  had  hoped  to  see  you 
rejoicing  in  any  fate  that  took  you  out  of  Hichmond 
just  at  this  time.     Did  I  not  guess  your  feelings  truly  ?*' 

Catharine  was  astounded.  She  had  not  dreamed  of 
Philip  being  her  real  abductor,  or  that  he,  if  he  really 
knew  the  truth,  would  have  dared  to  thwart  and  circum- 
vent his  own  father.  Did  he  know  that  she  was  really 
his  father's  wife  ?  If  not,  dared  she  tell  him,  after 
promising  so  solemnly  not  to  divulge  it  until  her  hus- 
band's return  ? 

He  looked  upon  her  pityiugly  and  in  silence  for  a  few 
moments,  longing  to  hush  her  sobs  upon  his  bosom; 
but  somehow  he  dared  not  try  it. 

"  Catharine,"  he  said  at  length,  "  I  had  hoped  for  a 
different  reception  from  this.  I  had  flattered  myself 
that  you  would  prefer  the  shelter  of  my  fond,  enduring 
love  to  the  fate  I  found  awaited  you  in  Hichmond,  —  to 
which  I  thought,  from  your  every  look  and  tone,  you 
looked  forward  with  fear  and  dread." 

"You  took  a  fine  way  to  coax  me  over  to  your  views, 
Philip  Atherton,"  said  Catharine,  raising  her  head 
proudly, — "'one  worthy  the  ingenuity  of  a  first-class 
pirate  or  brigand.  But  pray  to  what  fate  worse  than 
this  do  you  allude,  sir  ?  " 

"  That  of  a  marriage  with  a  man  old  enough  to  be 


THE   ABDUCTIOX.  203 

your  father,  wliom  you  may  fear  and  respect,  but  can 
never  love.  The  means  T  took  to  save  you  from  it  were 
the  only  ones  I  could  think  of,  that  would  at  once 
preclude  objections  on  your  part,  from  some  mistaken 
sense  of  duty,  and  elude  the  vigilance  of  martial  law,^' 
he  said  with  his  face  flushing  hotly  at  her  scornful  allu- 
sions to  his  brigandism. 

Catharine  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  began  to  pace  tho 
room  rapidly,  and  m  the  greatest  consternation,  trying 
to  think  of  what  it  was  best  for  her  to  do.  That  Philip 
loved  her  quite  as  passionately,  and  more  unscrupulously, 
than  his  father,  she  could  no  longer  doubt.  And  this 
daring  outrage,  in  sending  her  out  of  his  father's  way, 
believing  her  evidently  still  free  to  choose,  warned  her 
that  he  had  come  to  bring  the  affair  to  a  crisis  in  some 
desperate  way.  She  saw  plainly  that  he  was  not  to  be 
turned  from  his  purpose,  or  trifled  with.  Back  and 
forth  she  paced  the  room  for  some  time,  with  a.  flashed 
and  excited  countenance ;  while  he  watched  her  fur- 
tively, trying  to  road  his  fate  in  her  expressive  face,  and 
wondering  how  she  could  hesitate  in  a  choice  between 
the  son,  glowing  with  youth  and  health  and  beauty, 
and  the  father  stern  and  faded  and  old.     Pie  forsrot  the 

o 

fact,  that,  if  she  could  have  had  a  choice,  she  would  have 
selected  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  as  the  companion 
of  her  future  life. 

She  decided  at  last  tliat  concealments  and  half-way 
measures  were  unadvisable  in  the  present  crisis ;  so, 
with  a  face  pale  with  excitement,  all  excepting  a  bright 
red  spot  on  either  cheek,  she  came  tremblingly  up  to 
Philip,  took  both  his  hands  in  hers,  and  said  in  a  deeply- 
agitated  yet  pitying  tone,  — 

"  Philip,  you  have  done  yourself  a  great  wrong,  as  well 


204      THE  EEBEL  GENEPwAL's  LOYAL  BRmE. 

as  me,  in  bringing  me  here  as  you  have  done,  —  ex- 
posing, not  only  my  health,  but  my  character  to  the 
greatest  misconstructions.  Yet  I  forgive  you,  though 
another  may  not,  because  you  knew  not  what  you  were 
doing.  Like  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  you  seem  ignorant 
of  the  fact,  that  for  more  than  three  months  I  have 
been  your  father's  wife." 

''  My  father's  wife  !  Good  heavens !  is  that  the  truth  ?  '' 
he  exclaimed,  starting  to  his  feet  as  suddenly  as  if  a 
cannon-ball  had  rolled  under  them,  and  looking  into 
Catharine's  eyes  with  a  wild,  strange,  agonized  expres- 
sion, that  fairly  startled  her. 

"It  is  the  solemn  truth,  Philip,"  she  said.  "I  am 
his  wife,  at  least  in  name.  We  were  privately  married 
at  Manassas  the  morning  previous  to  his  departure  for 
the  South-west.  How,  or  wliy,  I  dare  not  tell  you.  I 
promised  not  to  reveal  the  fact,  or  leave  the  country  be- 
fore his  return.  But  to  save  you,  Jits  so)i.  from  further 
errors,  if  not  crimes,  I  feel  that  I  must  confess  the  truth. 
Oh !  pity,  and  leave  me  now,  Philip,  to  a  fate  that  is  ir- 
revocable, and  forget  that  you  have  ever  loved  me." 

"  I  wish  I  could,  God  knows  !  But  it  is  impossible. 
"What,  you  my  father's  wife!  —  my  mother/  and  for- 
ever beyond  my  reach !  Oh,  the  thought  will  drive  me 
mad  ! "  and  it  was  his  turn  now  to  walk  the  floor,  and 
wring  his  hands  in  bitter  agony  of  spirit;  while  she 
sat  down,  leaned  her  aching  head  upon  her  hands,  and 
silently  wept. 

At  last  he  came  up,  and  bending  over  her,  and  putting 
his  arm  around  her,  said  in  a  husky  voice,  '•  0  Cath- 
arine !  even  now,  if  you  only  loved  me,  we  might  fly 
from  "  — 

"  Let  me  hear  no  such  words  as  those  from  your  lips ! " 


THE  ABDUCTION.  205 

she  exclaimed,  rising  in  majesty.  "  You  forget  what  is 
due  to  yourself  and  your  father's  wife.  Bear  your  dis- 
appointment like  a  man,  even  as  I  have  borne  mine,  and 
lived  on  to  suffer  still  more.  But  I  may  not  live  long. 
I  took  a  severe  cold  in  coming  here,  and  I  am  very  ill  at 
this  moment.  Don't  you  see  the  fever  in  my  bloodshot 
eyes  and  flushed  cheeks,  and  feel  it  in  my  burning 
liands  ?  "  and  she  laid  her  hot  hand  upon  his  cold  and 
clammy  ones. 

He  pressed  the  hand  to  his  lips,  and  looked  drearily 
into  the  flushed  face,  but  to  be  convinced  that  she  told 
him  the  truth. 

"  0  Catharine  !  '^  he  exclaimed  in  alarm.  "  You  arc 
really  ill.  If  my  bringing  you  here  should  cause  your 
death,  I  should  never  forgive  myself." 

"I  should  not  murmur,  Philip.  The  sleep  of  death 
would  seem  sweet  to  me  now,  the  life  before  me  seems  so 
dreary  and  joyless." 

"  Without  love,  or  congeniality  of  soul,  or  suitability 
of  age,  or  even  the  strong  bond  of  political  affinities,  — 
0  Catharine ! " 

"  Say  no  more,  Philip,  but  leave  me  now,  I  beg  of 
you,  —  leave  me  to  my  fate." 

"  But  what  will  you  do  ?  JJe  is  in  E-ichmond  making 
inquiries  for  you  everywhere." 

"  Does  he  acknowledge  me  as  his  wife  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed ;  or  I  should  not  have  come  here  to  woo 
or  insult  my  fathers  wife  !  "  said  he  bitterly. 

"  Do  not  mention  it  again,  but  go,  —  go.     I  forgive  and 
pity  you.     But  my  head  is  bursting  with  pain  :  I  can 
hardly  see.     I  cannot  think  what  to  say  to  you   any 
longer,"  she  exclaimed  in  an  agonized  tone. 
18 


206      THE  EEBEL  GENEEAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"  But  you  must  have  a  doctor  immediately/'  he  said 
in  a  tone  of  alarm. 

"  No,  no :  that  would  reveal  the  secret.  It  must  not 
be  known  that  I  am  here.  How  it  would  disgrace  me, 
and  him  too,  if  it  were  known  that  I  had  run  away 
from  him  to  stay  here  alone  with  his  son !  Chloe  can 
doctor  me,  I'll  warrant ;  and  she  won't  tell  him  —  I 
took  poison,  and  went  off  to  get  rid  of  him.  Ha,  ha,  ha ! 
Punny,  wasn't  it,  to  hide  from  him  in  this  way  ?  To 
sell  myself  to  save  his  life,  and  then  cheat  him  out  of 
the  price.  Wa^s  that  right,  do  you  think?  I  don't. 
But  then  I  was  so  afraid  I  couldn't  help  it.  He'll  be 
jealous  as  an  ogre,  I'll  warrant,  if  I  look  at  Lloyd,  or 
Philip,  or  anybody  younger  or  handsomer.  But  who 
cares  ?  One  can't  always  keep  her  thoughts  from 
roving,  if  she  is  tied  with  cords  or  matrimonial  bands. 
I'm  not  one  to  break  over  them,  though.  Maybe  I  shall 
learn  to  love  him  as  he  said.  I  hope  so.  Oh !  is  that 
you,  Philip  ?  You  came  to  see  your  father,  did  you  ? 
He  is  just  returned,  and  you  will  find  him  in  the  library. 
He  will  be  delighted  to  see  jou  safe  home  after  that 
bloody  battle.  Was  Theodore  there?  or  Harry? 
Wounded,  did  you  say?  Oh,  I  must  go  to  him  at 
once  !  "  And  she  started  up  in  wild  alarm  ;  while  Philip, 
who  had  thus  far  listened  in  astonishment  to  her  wild 
ravings,  doubtful  at  first  that  they  were  so  in  reality,  but 
convinced  at  last  that  they  were  the  incoherent  utter- 
ances of  delirium,  caught  her  by  the  arm  to  prevent  her 
from  dashing  out  of  the  room  and  down  the  stairs. 

Her  QjQs  grew  wilder  and  wilder  every  moment,  and 
were  fixed  on  vacancy,  or  roving  restlessly.  Her  face 
was  hotly  flushed,  her  pulse  bounding ;  and  there  was 
every  symptom  of  a  raging  fever.     He  led  her  back  to  a 


Catharine's  illness.  207 

seat,  and  tlien,  completely  at  his  wits'  end,  rang  for 
Cliloe,  who  had  retired.  Besides  Catharine,  there  was  no 
white  woman  on  the  plantation ;  and  he  knew,  that,  if  a 
doctor  was  sent  for,  it  would  excite  a  great  deal  of  wonder 
and  speculation  in  the  neighborhood,  get  to  the  ears  of 
his  i\ither,  and  lead  to  unpleasant  consequences.  Chloe 
was  quite  a  celebrated  doctress  among  the  negroes.  She 
thought  she  could  manage  the  case  skilfully ;  and  Philip 
finally  concluded  that  it  was  better  to  risk  it  in  her 
hands,  under  a  charge  of  secrecy,  than  to  hazard  Catha- 
rine's reputation  by  calling  in  medical  aid.  So  she  was 
persuaded  by  Chloe  to  go  to  bed,  opiates  were  adminis- 
tered, and  then  she  proceeded  to  give  her  a  famous  sweat. 
But,  in  spite  of  all  Chloe  could  do,  Catharine  was  stupid 
or  raving  by  turns  for  several  days.  Philip  had  planned 
to  spend  them  with  her  in  a  very  different  manner.  Xow 
he  sat  by  her  at  times,  when  Chloe,  worn  out  with  watch- 
ing, slept  upon  the  lounge  near  by,  listening  to  her  inco- 
herent ravings,  and  gathering  up,  first  and  last,  the  whole 
story  of  her  devoted  self-sacrifice  to  save  her  brother's 
life,  as  well  as  indubitable  proofs  of  her  innocence,  purity, 
and  truth.  He  felt  indignant  at  his  father  for  taking 
advantage  of  her  as  he  had  done  ;  though  conscience  whis- 
pered that  he  would  have  done  the  like  in  the  same  cir- 
cumstances, —  or  worse  if  he  could.  Yet  he  bitterly 
cursed  himself  now  for  the  ungenerous  part  he  had  acted 
towards  her  first  and  last,  and  all  he  had  made  her  suf- 
fer. If  he  could  have  won  the  love  of  such  a  woman,  he 
felt  that  he  would  have  become  a  better  man ;  and  his 
thoughts  went  back  regretfully  to  his  conduct  regarding 
Lloyd  Hunter,  and  the  pride  and  haughtiness  that  re- 
pelled her  in  the  bright  morning  of  their  lives. 

Catharine  grew  calmer  at  last ;  but  she  was  then  com- 


208      THE  REBEL   GEXERAL's   LOYAL  BRIDE. 

pletely  exhausted,  and  still  dangerously  sick,  when  Philip 
was  compelled  to  tear  himself  away,  and  return  to  his 
regiment.  But  the  time  spent  in  that  sick-room  was  not 
wholly  lost  upon  him.  His  mad  passion  was  cooled  by 
the  knowledge  that  her  most  secret  earthly  thoughts 
were  all  of  another;  while  her  perfect  sincerity,  truth, 
purity  of  soul,  high  sense  of  honor,  and  strong  religious 
principle,  and  trust  in  God,  awed,  and  inspired  him  for 
the  time  with  such  a  respect  for  her  as  he  had  never  felt 
for  any  other  woman,  —  such  a  reverence  for  sacred 
things  as  he  had  never  in  his  life  experienced  before. 
He  left  the  place  a  sadder,  wiser,  but  exceedingly 
anxious  man. 

Philip  had  a  private  conference  with  his  overseer 
before  leaving,  and  also  left  a  letter  with  Chloe  for 
Catharine,  in  case  she  recovered,  but  to  be  burned  if  she 
did  not,  with  strict  injunctions  that  she  should  have  the 
best  of  care,  and  every  thing  that  was  necessary  for  her 
restoration. 

It  was  late  in  November  when  Catharine  was  brought 
to  the  plantation  :  it  was  mid-winter  before  she  could 
sit  up  a  moment,  and  a  much  longer  time  before  she 
was  able  to  leave  her  sick-chamber.  A  physician  at 
first  might  have  broken  up  the  fever ;  though  that  is 
doubtful,  so  strongly  was  it  fastened  upon  her  system. 
As  it  was,  she  had  it  the  natural  way;  though  Chloe 
took  great  credit  to  herself  for  her  wonderful  cure  of  the 
sick  lady,  who  ran  away  from  the  guerillas,  and  came  to 
her  for  protection  one  dark  November  morning.  The 
life-giving  spring  breezes  brought  health  and  strength, 
and  a  more  refined  and  delicate  beauty,  back  to  the  poor 
invalid,  but  the  greatest  anxiety  regarding  her  future 
destiny. 


CATHARINE'S  ILLNESS.  209 

As  soon  as  she  thought  her  well  enough,  Aunt  Chloe 
put  Philip's  letter  into  Catharine's  hands,  with  money 
enough  for  all  present  exigencies.     It  began  thus :  — 

"0  Catharine  !  what  can  I  say  to  you  in  this  dreadful 
hour,  that  I  see  you  lying  there  upon  the  confines  of  eter- 
nitj^,  through  my  means,  and  yet  must,  by  a  strong  neces- 
sity, leave  you  to  your  fate,  and  bid  you  perhaps  an 
eternal  farewell  ?  Yet  it  may  be  better  for  you  and  for 
me  that  it  is  so ;  for  I  cannot  endure  the  thought  of 
your  really  becoming  his  bride,  or  ever  forgive  him  for 
taking  advantage  of  you  as  he  has  done.  And  oh ! 
would  it  not  be  better  for  you  to  be  rejoicing  among  the 
angels  —  as  you  would,  if  mortal  ever  did  or  can — than 
to  live  on,  a  life  of  fear,  disgust,  and  loathing  ?  For  I 
know  all,  Catharine,  The  whole  truth  has  been  revealed 
to  me  in  your  wild  ravings;  though  I  should  not  have 
understood  it  but  for  my  previous  knowledge  of  that 
captivity  and  escape.  As  it  is,  family  pride  will  forever 
seal  my  lips ;  and  you  must  bum  this  epistle  if  you  live 
to  read  it,  lest  in  some  way  a  clew  should  be  afforded  to 
his  enemies.  Eeading  your  heart  thus,  as  I  have  done, 
Catharine,  I  truly  honor  and  exonerate  you  from  all 
blame.  Knowing  your  most  secret  thoughts,  I  believe 
you  to  be  a  pure,  self-sacrificing  angel,  of  whom  neither 
of  us  was  in  the  smallest  degree  worthy.  Led  on  by  a 
passionate,  self-indulgent  nature,  I  have  wronged  you  in 
the  past,  dear  Catharine,  more  than  I  dare  to  think  of. 
And  I  had  come  to  believe  female  purity  and  virtue  a 
myth,  and  that  there  was  none  unpurchasable,  until  this 
hour  that  I  read  your  pure  and  noble  soul.  Oh,  if  I 
could  have  a  wife  like  you,  it  would  be  my  salvation ! 
But  that  is  now  impossible.     The  past  cannot  be  re- 

19* 


210      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BREDE. 

called.  In  the  present  I  am  reaping  its  punishments 
with  a  Tengeance,  in  a  blighted  and  unhappy  life.  For 
the  future  I  have  onlj^  a  mad,  sleepless  ambition,  that 
may  lead  me  on  to  death.  Forgive  all  I  have  made  you 
sufier.  Think  of  me  as  kindly  as  you  can.  If  possible, 
I  beg  of  you  to  conceal  the  part  I  have  taken  in  your 
abduction,  and  thus  shield  me  from  his  anger.  My  own 
private  feelings  would  bid  me  counsel  you  to  return  to 
your  friends  at  the  jSTorth  as  soon  as  possible  ;  j^et  I 
know  that  a  sense  of  duty  may  lead  you  back  to  E-ich- 
mond  and  to  him.  In  either  case,  I  shall  not  blame 
you.  I  enclose  the  means  to  do  either;  and  you  must 
act  as  you  think  best.  To-morrow  I  go  back  to  my 
duty,  with  a  weight  like  a  mountain  on  my  heart.  Oh, 
how  deeply  I  realize  in  this  dreadful  hour  that  '  the 
"wages  of  sin  is  misery,  if  not  death ' !  Farewell,  dear 
Catharine,  farewell  forever.'* 

Catharine  could  not  read  this  epistle  without  tears, 
and  the  strongest  emotions  of  pity  and  regret  for  the 
evident  suiFering  of  what  she  believed  to  have  been  a 
noble  nature  run  to  waste  and  wickedness,  through  early 
indulgence,  and  a  mistaken  mother's  training.  She  for- 
gave, and  felt  sorry  for  him  ;  yet  she  could  not  forget 
that  he  probably  was  the  cause  of  the  bitterest  disap- 
pointment of  her  life,  —  one,  too,  that  had  led  her  on, 
step  by  step,  to  her  present  unenviable  position.  Philip 
had  left  her  free  to  act,  and  advised  her  to  go  home. 
But  no  passes  were  granted  at  that  time  ;  and  it  was 
not  so  easy  to  do  so  as  it  had  previously  been.  But,  in 
spite  .of  her  repugnance,  there  was  her  solemn  promise  ; 
and  did  she  not  owe  her  first  duty  to  her  husband  ?  If 
he,  through  doubt  or  jealousy,  refused   to   believe  the 


Catharine's  illness.  211 

strange  tale  slie  had  to  tell,  she  could  then  decide  upon 
some  other  course.  Tlierefore,  as  soon  as  she  was  able 
to  sit  up,  she  wrote,  not  only  to  him,  but  to  Mrs. 
Hunter,  detailing  her  painful  experiences,  excepting 
Mhat  related  to  Philip's  visit,  and  asking  what  she  had 
better  do. 

The  slave,  sent  on  horseback  to  the  nearest  office 
with  the  letters,  ran  away,  as  hundreds  of  others  were 
doinor  at  that  time.  The  letters  never  reached  their 
destination ;  and  Catharine  waited  in  vain  for  a  reply. 
After  daj^s  of  suspense  and  anxious  solicitude,  she  wrote 
again,  but  with  no  better  success  than  before.  She  did 
not  know,  of  course,  that  neither  of  her  letters  ever 
reached  their  destination.  Thinking  at  last  that  they 
doubted  herstory,  and  wanted  to  cast  her  off",  she  made 
some  inquiries  about  crossing  the  lines.  Finding  she 
could  not  do  this  in  safety,  she  concluded  to  return  to 
Eichmond  at  a  venture,  though  a  little  doubtful  of  her 
reception. 

But,  in  all  those  weeks  and  months  that  Catharine 
had  lain  there,  sick,  homesick,  and  suffering,  the  bloody 
work  of  war  had  gone  on.  Though  the  splendid  army 
of  the  Potomac,  from  one  cause  and  another,  chafed  in 
their  canvas  tents,  sickened  with  inaction  and  hope 
deferred,  and  rapidly  filled  up  the  hospitals  and  grave- 
yards, bloody  battles  had  been  fought  at  many  other 
places,  with  varied  fortunes,  all  along  the  extended  lines. 
Thousands  of  precious  lives  had  been  sacrificed,  and 
millions  of  treasure  had  been  expended. 

But  Catharine  knew  very  little  of  all  this  :  she  saw 
no  papers  or  intelligent  people,  and  heard  only  the  wild, 
garbled  stories  circulating  among  the  slave  population, 
who,  unable  to  read  themselves,  were  kept  in  as  great 


212      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

ignorance  as  possible  by  their  owners,  especially  at  this 
time,  when  they  were  in  a  general  expectation  of  a  jubi- 
lee of  freedom. 

Philip  Atherton's  plantation  was  one  he  had  inherited 
from  his  mother.  Though  large  and  isolated,  and  its 
owner  thoroughly  loyal  to  the  Confederate  cause,  it  had 
not  been  exempt  from  the  desolating  scourge  of  war,  any 
more  than  others  in  Northern  Virginia  at  that  time. 
The  slaves  ran  away  in  scores ;  the  crops  were  overrun 
and  wasted  ;  the  fences  burned ;  and  every  thing  seemed 
going  to  rack  and  ruin.  None  could  prevent  the  spoil- 
ing of  their  possessions  by  the  roving  bands  of  soldiery 
and  desperadoes,  who  swept  like  a  tornado  over  the  hills 
and  valleys  of  the  Old  Dominion,  emboldened  by  their 
successes,  and  feared  alike  by  friend  and  foe.  They 
had  paid  the  plantation  two  or  three  visits  previous  to 
Catharine's  arrival ;  ransacking  the  house,  corn-cribs, 
smoke-houses,  pig-sties,  and  hen-roosts,  taking  what- 
ever they  liked.  But  several  months  had  passed  away 
since  that  time  ;  and  they  had  begun  tp  feel  quite  secure 
again. 

Catharine  had  been  very  shy  of  exposing  herself  to 
the  gaze  of  the  people  on  or  around  the  plantation; 
yet,  as  she  gained  strength,  she  began  to  walk  out  at 
certain  hours  to  view  the  beautiful  scenery,  and  breathe 
the  refreshing  spring  breezes ;  though  generally  careful 
to  choose  unfrequented  paths. 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

AN    OLD    ADMIRER.  RIDIXG   IN    STATE. 

i^^FTEE,  many  earnest  prayers  for  divine  pro- 
tection and  guidance,  Catharine  finally  made 
arrangements  for  her  return  to   Richmond. 
The  overseer  was  to  take  her  to  the  nearest 
railroad  station  to  go  by  the  earliest  morning  train. 

The  afternoon  previous  to  her  expected  departure,  she 
thought  she  would  walk  down  the  avenue  to  the  turnpike 
to  view  the  scenery,  and  fix  the  location  in  her  memory. 
It  was  past  the  middle  of  April :  the  sky  was  blue 
and  cloudless,  and  the  air  soft  and  balmy.  The  trees 
in  this  favored  clime  were  putting  forth  fresh  young 
leaves  and  opening  buds.  The  early  wild-flowers  greeted 
her  at  every  step,  cheering  her  by  their  bright  young 
faces.  The  birds  were  warbling  their  evening  songs  of 
thanksgiving  to  their  great  Creator,  thus  leading  her  own 
heart  up  in  thankfulness  to  the  kind  Father  who  had 
scattered  such  life  and  beauty  everywhere,  and  preserved 
her  thus  far  in  trouble  and  danger.  She  reached  the 
little  arched  bridge  that  spanned  a  beautiful  stream  that 
crossed  the  grounds  a  few  rods  above  the  turnpike ;  and, 
tired  with  her  unusual  exertions,  —  for  she  was  still  far 
from  strong,  —  she  sat  down  upon  the  low  railing  to  rest, 
and  think  over  her  plans  for  the  future. 

213 


214      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

A  little  hill,  covered  with  a  fine  growth  of  young  tim- 
ber, screened  her  from  observation  from  the  turnpike,  and 
also  deadened  the  sound  of  the  approach  of  a  party  of 
soldiery,  who  were  advancing  up  the  road.  It  was  not 
until  an  authoritative  "Halt!"  sounded  upon  her  ear, 
that  she  dreamed  of  their  approach,  so  lost  was  she  in 
her  meditations.  Starting  up  in  alarm,  she  looked 
towards  the  turnpike,  and  saw  two  men  on  horseback 
just  rounding  the  curve  of  the  hill,  and  turning  their 
steeds  up  the  avenue. 

"  Nice  place  to  stop  and  recruit,  by  ginger !  Plenty 
of  bacon  and  nice  fat  fowls,  and  feed  for  the  nags,  I'll 
bet  a  fourpence,"  she  heard  one  of  them  say  to  the  other. 

"  So  I  reckon,"  echoed  the  other.  "  I  wonder  who 
lives  here  ?  But  look  there.  Hallo !  Stop,  gal !  Can't 
ye  answer  a  civil  question  ?  " 

"I'll  be  hanged  if  I  didn't  know  that  critter ;  and  I'll 
be  plaguy  glad  to  see  her  tu,"  continued  the  first  speaker. 

Catharine  did  not  wait  for  rejoinder  or  parley,  but  ran 
swiftly  uj)  the  avenue,  spreading  consternation  among 
the  slaves  by  the  news  that  the  soldiery  were  coming ; 
though  not  in  so  great  a  degree  as  she  felt  it  herself: 
for,  in  the  sharp,  nasal  twang,  she  had  recognized  the 
voice  of  Sweep,  her  old  admirer  and  persecutor,  though 
his  face  seemed  somehow  a  good  deal  changed  in  ap- 
pearance from  what  she  remembered  it.  She  feared  from 
his  words  that  he  had  recognized  her;  so,  as  soon  as  she 
got  to  the  house,  she  ran  up  to  her  room,  locked  the  door, 
and  sunk  down  upon  a  seat  breathless  and  terrified.  She 
had  supposed  him  dead,  or  at  least  out  of  the  country ; 
and  she  trembled  to  think  of  what  new  trouble  might 
come  of  his  machinations.  There  was  no  use  in  resisting 
the   demands   for  entertainment   of  a   party  of  twenty 


AN  OLD   ADMIEER.  215 

arnied  soldiery ;  though  the  overseer  tried  to  do  it  at  first : 
but  the  carabines  of  the  troopers  brouglit  liim  to  his 
senses.  They  were  guarding  government  property,  they 
said,  and  had  a  right  to  the  best  the  country  afforded. 
So  the  big  sutler's  wagon  they  were  guarding  was  drawn 
under  the  shed,  the  beasts  were  fed  and  housed^  and  the 
men  were  soon  having  a  merry  carouse  over  the  nice 
supper  Aunt  Chloe  was  obliged  to  have  prepared  for 
them. 

In  spite  of  her  hopes  to  the  contrary,  Sweep  had 
recognized  Catharine  ;  and,  b}^  questioning  the  negroes,  he 
found  out  that  the  lady  had  run  away  from  the  guerillas, 
and  come  there  sick  ever  so  long  ago,  and  was  going 
away  again  upon  the  morrow.  He  knew  very  well  that 
she  would  not  want  to  see  him ;  but  for  all  that  he  deter- 
mined to  have  an  interview  with  "missy,"  as  the  negroes 
called  her. 

As  soon  as  supper  was  over,  and  it  was  quite  dark,  he 
took  Aunt  Chloe  aside,  and  told  her  privately  that  he 
knew  the  young  lady  who  was  staying  there  well;  that 
he  was,  in  fact,  a  particular  friend  of  hers,  and  knew  she  • 
would  be  terrible  glad  to  see  him.  He  wanted  her  to  go 
and  ask  her  if  she  wouldn't  like  to  have  an  interview 
with  Mr.  Kendall.  Chloe  did  not  like  the  looks  of  him, 
but  she  was  totally  unsuspicious  of  his  object :  so, 
taking  a  light,  she  waddled  up  the  grand  staircase  to 
Catharine's  room.  It  was  locked;  but  she  opened  it  at 
once  at  the  sound  of  Aunt  Chloe's  welcome  voice,  letting 
in,  not  only  the  old  negress,  but  Sweep,  who  had  followed 
on  tiptoe,  and  bolted  in  just  behind  her,  before  either 
she  or  Catharine  was  aware  of  his  presence.  To  avoid 
suspicion,  she  had  been  sitting  there  in  the  darkness  ;  and, 
blinded  by  the  sudden  illumination,  she  did  not  perceive 


216      THE  REBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

the  rascal  until  lie  had  made  good  his  entrance,  locked 
the  door  after  him,  and  put  the  key  in  his  pocket. 

"  Dere's  a  great,  tall,  yaller-skinned,  long-legged  man 
down  stairs,  dat  say  he  know  ye,  miss,  an'  want  to  see 
ye  dreffiilly,"  said  Chloe,  who,  being  a  little  deaf,  had 
not  dreamed  of  his  being  so  near. 

"  That's  so.  Miss  Kate,"  echoed  Sweep,  coming  for- 
ward at  this  moment,  and  grasping  her  hand  as  if  he 
were  the  dearest  friend  she  had  in  the  world. 

She  drew  back,  too  much  surprised  to  speak  for  an  in- 
stant, and  then  exclaimed  in  an  indignant  tone,  "  I  would 
thank  you  to  walk  out  of  my  room,  sir !  No  gentleman 
would  enter  a  lady's  chamber  in  such  an  impudent  way 
as  this ! " 

"  Oh  !  you're  there,  are  you  ?  I'm  very  much  obleeged 
for  the  compliment ! "  he  returned  with  a  grin.  "  I"ll  let 
the  old  woman  out,  if  you  say  so;  but,  as  to  myself, 
I'm  very  comfortable  ; "  and  he  sat  down  composedly  upon 
the  side  of  the  bed. 

"  Get  'long  out  yerself,  you  old  villain  !  I'll  not  have 
my  young  mistis  'suited  in  dis  way ! "  screamed  Chloe,  as 
soon  as  she  could  catch  her  breath  from  astonishment  at 
his  audacity,  and  flourishing  her  black  fist  in  his  face. 
"  If  you  don't  go  dis  minit,  I'll  yell,  an'  rouse  every 
nigger  on  de  plantation." 

"  Do  you  see  that,  you  old  baboon  ? "  he  returned, 
drawing  a  glittering  bowie  from  its  sheath,  flourishing  it 
menacingly  before  her  eyes,  and  then  coolly  returning  it 
to  its  receptacle. 

Poor  Chloe  subsided  at  once.  She  stood  for  a  moment 
gazing  in  dumb  terror  into  his  glittering  gray  eyes,  and 
then,  turning  with  a  faint  shriek,  she  ran  towards  the 
door,  followed  by  the  equally  frightened  Catharine.     He 


AN  OLD   ADMIRER.  21 


n 


laughed  sardonically,  when  he  saw  their  consternation  at 
finding  the  door  locked  upon  them,  and  they  prisoners, 
apparently  at  his  mercy. 

"  Pray  be  seated,  ladies,  and  make  yourselves  to  home, 
jest  as  I  du,"  he  sneered.  "  I  come  to  make  a  friendly 
call,  and  there's  no  need  of  makin'  all  this  fuss  about  it." 

"  You  see,  I've  bin  wantin'  to  see  ye.  Miss  Kate,  ever 
sence  that  little  affair  at  the  major's,  to  tell  ye  how 
grateful  I  was  for  what  you  done  for  me.'^ 

"  If  you  are  so  in  reality,  as  I  think  you  had  reason  to 
be,  pray  unlock  this  door,  and  walk  out,  sir ! " 

''  Oh !  that's  another  matter,  my  dear.  I've  got  a 
great  deal  to  tell  ye  before  we  part ;  though  I'll  let  out 
the  old  woman  if  you  say  so ; "  and  he  grinned  mali- 
ciously. 

"No,  no!"  she  eagerly  exclaimed.  "She  shall  stay 
if  you  do." 

"  As  you  will.  I  always  love  to  please  the  ladies ; 
though  I'd  a  leetle  ruther  see  you  alone.  You  see,  Miss 
Kate,  I  ain't  done  likin'  on  ye  yet ;  and  I  wanted  to  tell 
ye  how  infarnal  lucky  I'd  bin  sence  we  parted.  You 
know,  I  had  a  darned  hard  time  on  it  then;  but  I 
weathered  it  somehow,  and  got  off  slick  as  grease  at  last, 
with  my  money  tied  round  me  in  a  leather  belt  under 
my  shirt.  You  see,  I  got  so  crisped  and  singed,  and 
looked  so  awful  on  the  outside,  and  all  the  niggers  and 
white  folks  was  so  mad,  that  they  never  thought  to  sarch 
me,  and  never  spected  that  I'd  got  five  thousand  dollars 
under  the  rags  and  charcoal.  So  they  let  me  slide ; 
and  slide  I  did.  They  wouldn't  touch  me  arter  you  was 
gone,  except  to  give  me  a  kick,  even  w^hen  I  yelled  like 
murder  for  water.  I  suffered  horribly,  I  can  tell  ye,  and 
like  to  kicked  the  bucket.     But  I  was  detarmined  I 

19 


218   THE  EEBEL  GENEEAL's  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

wouldn't  please  'em  so  well  as  to  du  that.  So  I  crawled 
off  at  last  to  the  cornfield  by  the  spring,  and  lived  there 
until  I  got  well  enough  to  quit  that  cussed  plantation. 
I  found  an  old  tin  dipper  near  the  spring ;  so  I  could  get 
water,  and  milk  the  cows,  and  eat  green  corn,  and  all  the 
nice  melons  and  fruit  I  wanted ;  so  I  didn't  starve  then, 
]'ll  bet  a  fourpence. 

^^  Well,  I  skulked  round  a  spell  until  I  got  better,  and 
found  some  fellers  going  jS'orth  who  lent  me  a  hoss,  and 
went  with  me  up  to  the  Union  lines  by  a  kind  of  under- 
ground railroad  management.  You  see,  they  was  begin- 
ning to  git  kinder  out  of  things  down  here,  owin'  to  that 
tarnal  blockade ;  and  they  wanted  'em  dreadfully.  So  I 
went  up  home  to  see  if  I  couldn't  help  'em  a  little. 
"When  I  got  up  to  TVashinton,  who  should  I  find  there 
but  my  own  brother,  Jotham  Sweep ;  and,  as  sure  as  you 
live,  he  had  got  to  be  one  of  the  biggest  government  con- 
tractors in  the  Union,  and,  one  way  and  another,  was 
makin'  money  like  smoke.  He'd  already  made  tew  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars,  he  told  me ;  and  all  he  wanted 
was  jest  sich  a  cute  feller  as  me  to  make  it  a  million  in  a 
few  months.  You  see,  the  rebs  were  gittin'  out  of  knives 
an'  fish-hooks  an'  darniu'-needles  an'  guns  an'  swords  an' 
pistols  an'  cloth  an'  shews,  an'  medsun  most  of  all,  'cause 
old  •'  Stars  an'  Stripes  '  had  blocked  'em  in ;  and  they  was 
ready  to  pay  'most  any  price  for  'em.  Jotham  was  buy- 
in'  up  all  sich  things  for  the  government,  an'  shinnin' 
round  the  President  an'  secetaries  an'  generals,  an'  pickin' 
up  all  the  news  ;  for  he  was  always  a  great  hand  to  pry  in- 
ter things.  Then  he'd  let  me  inter  all  their  secrets  that 
he'd  smelt  out,  an'  fix  me  out  slyly  with  a  lot  of  the 
traps  he'd  bought  for  government,  an'  I'd  start  off  for 
Old  Dixie  by  the  underground.     I"ve  kept  it  up  ever 


AN  OLD   ADMIEER.  219 

sence,  au'  no  harm  done  to  anybody.  The  rebs  under- 
stand it,  you  see,  an'  furnish  guards  to  bring  me  straight 
through.  When  I've  got  news,  or  somethin'  they  want 
bad,  like  that  doctor  stuff  out  there  in  the  wagon,  I  go 
clear  to  Richmond ;  but  most  of  the  time  they  take  the 
stuff  right  off  my  hands  nearer  home,  I  jest  growed  a 
big  beard,  ye  see,  an'  colored  it  black  with  dye-stuff,  so 
that  my  own  mother  wouldn't  know  me,  Jotham  says,  — 
if  I  only  hold  my  tongue.  Don't  you  see  how  it  im- 
proves my  beauty  ?  My  new  name,  tu,  is  a  plaguy 
sight  hansumer  than  the  old  one,  agin  which  I  always 
had  a  spite.  But  the  best  of  it  is,  I've  made  money 
hand  over  fist  ever  sence  I  went  inter  the  business.  I've 
already  got  tew  hundred  thousand  safe  and  sound  up 
there  in  the  banks  to  home ;  an',  if  you'll  have  me,  we'll 
go  up  to  Washinton,  build  us  a  grand  house,  git  us  a 
coach  an'  bosses,  carry  home  a  few  niggers  to  dii  the 
dirty  work  an'  wait  on  us  ;  an'  then  we'll  cut  as  grand  a 
flourish  as  the  best  on  'em.  Come  now,  what  do  you 
say  ?  .  Will  you  du  it  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed !  "  said  Catharine  indignantly.  '^  I  have 
no  desire  to  flourish  on  such  ill-gotten  gains." 

"  Ill-gotten,  did  you  say  ?  It's  no  sich  thing.  They 
need  the  things  dreadfully ;  and  it's  as  fair  a  trade  as  can 
be,"  said  he  spunkily. 

"  Don't  you  know  that  you  are  liable  to  dreadful  pen- 
alties if  you  are  caught  on  the  Federal  side  of  the 
line  ?  "  said  Catharine,  who,  with  her  anger  and  won- 
der at  his  audacity,  had  partially  recovered  her  equa- 
nimity. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  moonshine ! "  he  replied.  "  Jotham 
takes  care  of  all  that.  They  orter  be  thankful,  tu  ;  for  I 
carry  'em  a  sight  of  news  every  time  I  go  to  Washin- 
ton ;  an'  Jotham  knows  how  to  make  that  pay." 


220      THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"  Ah  !  you  play  spy  for  both  parties,  then  ?  " 

'•Xo  spy  about  it.  I  jest  tell 'em  the  news:  that's 
all.     An'  they  both  want  to  hear  it  bad  enough." 

^^Well,  you  had  better  go  home  and  take  up  some 
more  respectable  calling  than  bringing  aid  and  comfort 
to  the  enemies  of  your  country,  if  you  do  not  want  your 
neck  stretched." 

"  What  are  you  duin'  down  here,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  I  am  staying  because  I  cannot  get  home  just  now ; 
and  cannot  very  well  help  mj^self." 

'•  Oh !  if  that's  all,  I  can  help  ye  jest  as  well  as  not.  Go 
down  to  Eichmond  with  me  an'  git  spliced ;  an'  the  rebs 
won't  say  a  word  agin  your  goin'  home  with  me. 
They'd  help  us  along  all  the  way.  I  know  jest  how  to 
come  round  'em ;  an'  they  think  a  sight  of  me.  Why, 
the  very  biggest  an'  fattest  on  'em,  even  to  Jeff.  Davis 
himself,  —  though  he's  poor  enough,  the  Lord  kijpws, — 
treat  me  jest  as  hansum  as  hansum  can  be.  They  some 
on  'em  ask  me  to  dine  or  take  wine  with  'em  every  time 
I  come  down  here,  and  act  as  if  they  was  darned  glad 
to  see  me." 

"  Ay !  and  scorn  you  behind  your  back  as  a  traitor 
to  your  country." 

"  Oh !  not  at  all.  They  treat  me  like  a  prince,  an' 
want  me  to  come  down  as  often  as  I  can.  But,  arter  all, 
it's  jest  a  leetle  mite  dangerous ;  and  I'm  about  tired 
of  packing  around  from  pillar  to  post.  So,  if  you'll  go 
home  with  me.  Miss  Kate,  I'll  quit  the  business,  and 
we'll  settle  down  comfortable  together.  I  could  then  go 
inter  the  contractin'  business  with  Jotham,  if  you  think 
that's  a  little  grander,  and  still  make  money  enough  to 
keep  ye  in  gewgaws  and  fixin's.  For,  you  see,  I  don't 
mean  my  wife  shall  be  behind  Jotham's  one  bit.     If 


AN  OLD   ADMmER.  221 

you  could  have  seen  her  at  the  President's  levy,  as  I  did, 
you'd  ha'  thought  it  worth  while  to  be  a  contractor's 
bride.  She  looked  as  grand  as  the  best  on  'em,  I  can 
tell  ye,  in  her  yaller  silk  gownd,  with  long  red  stream- 
ers on  her  head,  and  covered  all  over  with  flowers  and 
diamonds  and  flounces  and  furbelows.  I  guess  Mr.  Lin- 
coln and  his  wife  thought  so,  tu,  by  the  notice  they  took 
on  her.  But  you're  a  great  deal  hansumer  than  Jo- 
tliam's  wife ;  and  you'd  show  off  the  fixin's,  I  can  tell 
ye,  up  there  to  Washinton  :  and  you  shall  have  all  you 
want,  if  it  costs  "ever  so  much.  So  jest  say  you'll  go 
now,  an'  it's  all  right." 

"  I  shall  say  no  such  thing ;  so  you  may  as  well  go 
about  your  business." 

"  Wall,  I  guess  it's  about  time,"  he  said  with  an  evil 
smile.  "  But  folks  change  their  minds  sometimes,  and 
especially  gals ;  so  I  guess  I'll  call  agin.  Tliere  was 
Jotham's  wife,  now,  used  to  cut  his  head,  and  give  him 
the  mitten  every  time  she  got  a  chance,  up  there  in  old 
New  England.  But  when  he  got  to  contractin',  and  be- 
gun to  make  a  spread,  slie  come  round  as  sweet  as  mo- 
lasses, and  near  about  asked  him  to  take  her,  I  heard. 
And  that's  about  the  way  with  all  the  women.  They 
want  to  be  baited  with  a  shiny  hook.  jNIaybe  you  won't 
be  so  different  from  the  rest,  after  all.  I'll  jest  call  round 
in  tlie.  moruin',  an'  see.  So  good-night,  an'  pleasant 
dreams."  He  then  unlocked  the  door,  let  himself  out, 
and  marched  down  stairs. 

"What  an  unmitigated  scoundrel!"  Catharine  ex- 
claimed, as  soon  as  anger  would  allow  her  to  speak. 

"Dat's  sure  nuff,"  returned  Cliloe,  wlio  sat   all   this 
time  cowering  in  the  corner,  so  much  frightened  by  hia 
threats  as  scarcely  to  understand  a  word  he  said. 
19* 


222      THE   REBEL   GENERAL's   LOYAL   BRIDE. 

"Yes,  indeed!  and  I  was  never  more  sorry  for  any 
thing  I  liave  done  than  for  skiving  his  life  a  few  months 
ago." 

"He  mean  you  no  good,  miss.  He  eye  show  dat. 
Chloe  glad  when  de  house  clare  o'  him." 

"  And  I,  too,  Chloe.  He's  plausible  enough,  in  his  vul- 
gar way  ;  but  he  has  not  the  least  sense  of  honor  or 
decency.  Why,  to  think  of  his  forcing  himself  in  hero 
as  he  did,  is  enough  to  make  one's  flesh  creep.  You 
must  stay  with  me  to-night,  Chloe,  or  I  shall  not  sleep  a 
wink." 

"  Well,  Chloe  lock  de  door  on  de  inside,  put  her  bed 
across,  an'  keep  de  ole  divle  off." 

They  soon  found,  however,  that,  though  Sweep  had  left 
their  door  unlocked,  he  had  carried  off  the  key.  That 
decided  Catharine  to  take  another  room  that  could  be 
locked.  Taking  her  money,  and  the  old  merino  dress 
she  had  worn  from  Richmond  in  November,  and  in- 
tended wearing  back  again  on  the  morrow,  she  went  to 
the  room  iramediatelj^  During  her  stay  at  the  planta- 
tion, she  had  been  obliged  to  wear  such  garments  as 
were  brought  to  her,  she  knew  not  whose.  These  she 
intended  to  leave  behind  her,  with  the  good  seed  she  had 
endeavored  to  sow  in  the  hearts  of  kind  Aunt  Chloe  and 
some  few  other  members  of  the  family. 

Chloe  was  obliged  to  go  down  to  make  preparations 
for  tlie  early  breakfast,  not  only  of  Sweep  and  his 
guards,  but  also  of  Catharine  and  the  overseer,  who 
were  expecting  to  start  very  early. 

Too  full  of  anxieties  to  think  of  sleeping,  with  the 
noise  of  a  high  carousal  ringing  in  her  ears,  Catharine 
went  to  work  and  sewed  her  money  and  watch  into  her 
travelling-dress,  put  it  on  loosely,  threw  her  shawl  over 


RIDING   IN   STATE.  223 

her  shoulders,  and  sat  down  upon  the  side  of  the  bed  to 
wait  for  Chloe.  She  was  a  long  time  in  coming ;  and, 
tired  at  last, and  cold,  she  lay  down  in  her  clothes, 
neither  expecting  nor  wishing  to  go  to  sleep  until  Chloe's 
return.  But  Chloe  did  not  come,  and  Catharine  did  get 
to  sleep  ;  from  which  she  was  suddenly  aroused  towards 
morning  by  the  light  from  a  dark  lantern  flashing  in 
her  eyes.  Starting  up  wildly,  she  found  Sweep  bending 
over  her,  and  just  in  the  act  of  tying  a  handkerchief  over 
her  mouth  to  stifle  her  screams. 

"  Not  a  word  I "'  he  hissed  in  her  ear,  as  he  dexterously 
tied  the  knot  with  his  teeth,  and  caught  her  hands,  so 
that  she  could  neither  help  herself  nor  utter  the  cry  for 
help  that  came  to  her  lips.  She  tried  to  resist  with  all 
her  might,  and  get  the  band  off,  but  in  vain.  Sweep's 
companion,  who  was  the  driver  of  his  wagon,  put  on 
her  bonnet,  that  lay  upon  the  dressing-table,  and  pinned 
up  her  shawl.  Then,  in  spite  of  her  feeble  resistance, 
Sweep  himself  took  her  up  as  if  she  were  a  baby,  and 
carried  her  down  stairs,  and  out  to  the  shed,  the  attend- 
ant carrjdng  the  light,  and  shutting  the  doors. 

xVlmost  wild  with  terror,  she  hardly  knew  what  they 
were  doing,  until  they  lifted  her  up  into  the  great  cov- 
ered sutler's  wagon  she  had  seen  drive  up  the  avenue 
the  previous  evening. 

They  seated  her  upon  a  pile  of  cushions  they  had 
stolen  from  the  carriage-house,  between  piles  of  boxes, 
and  bales  of  goods,  put  a  blanket  around  her,  and  made 
every  arrangement  for  her  comfort  and  safety. 

"  There,  Mistress  Kate  !  You  see  3'ou  can't  have  it 
all  3'our  own  way,"  said  Sweep  determinedly,  after  he 
had  got  her  fixed  to  his  liking.  "If  you  hadn't  bin  so 
toppin',  you  might  have  rid  with  me  on  the  outside,  aa 


224      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL  S  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

grand  as  Cuffee,  an'  Jake  could  gone  on  horseback 
But  here  you'll  be  very  comfortable,  —  as  safe  as  a  thief 
in  a  mill,  —  an'  can  finish  your  nap  at  j^our  leisure.  I 
felt  kinder  sorrj^  to  disturb  it,  you  looked  so  plaguy 
pretty  sleepin'.  I  noticed,  tu,  that  you  didn't  snore  so 
awful  as  them  black  wenches  down  stairs,  arter  they'd 
got  the  lodnum  in  their  stew.  I  thought  they'd  raise  the 
ruff,  they  made  sich  an  infarnal  noise.  You  see,  my  dear, 
I  wanted  ye  to  git  all  the  rest  you  could,  before  starting 
on  sich  an  excursion,  an'  not  be  bothered  with  that  old 
black  monkey  down  stairs.  I'm  a  sort  of  a  feelin',  tender- 
hearted man,  tu ;  an'  it  went  agin  my  grain  dreadfully  to 
tie  ye  up  in  this  way.  But  you  was  so  cantankerous,  I  see 
it  couldn't  be  helped.  If  you  conclude  to  be  quiet  after 
ridin'  a  spell,  I'll  take  off  the  fixin's.  I'll  tell  you  one 
thing,  though,  —  that,  if  they  were  off,  an'  you  roused 
them  rebel  guards  by  yer  howlin,  'twould  be  the  worse  for 
ye.  The^^'re  terrible  bloodthirsty,  hankeriu'  wretches 
arter  the  gals  ;  an',  if  they  knew  I  had  one  in  the  wagon, 
the  divle  would  be  to  pa}^  So  ■  you'd  better  lie  dowii 
peaceable,  my  dear,  an'  finish  your  nap."  And,  with  a 
malicious  grin,  he  shut  the  door,  which  resembled  that  of 
a  peddler's  wagon,  and  locked  it  on  the  outside,  leaving 
Catharine  in  total  darkness. 

To  describe  or  imagine  her  feelings  would  be  impos- 
sible. She  felt  that  she  was  completely  in  the  power  of 
an  artful  villain,  who  would  hesitate  at  no  means,  how- 
ever vile,  to  accomplish  his  purposes,  and  who  might  sac- 
rifice her  to  his  whole  band  if  he  were  well  paid  for  it. 
She  trembled  at  the  bare  possibility  this  thought  sug- 
gested. She  presenth^  heard  the  soldiers  cursing  and 
swearing,  as  they  were  roused  from  their  slumbers,  ate 
their  hasty  meal,  and  caparisoned  their  horses  for  the 


EIDIXG  IN  STATE.  225 

day's  ride.  The  wagon  was  then  drawn  out  of  the  shed, 
the  four  mules  attached  to  it,  the  driver  clambered  up  to 
his  seat,  and  the  cavalcade  moved  on. 

Day  was  just  breaking  in  the  east  as  they  reached  the 
turnpike,  though  all  was  yet  dark  to  poor  Catharine  in 
her  gloomy  prison.  Wedged  in  between  boxes  and 
bags  and  baskets,  without  the  power  of  using  her  hands, 
and  with  the  continued  jar  and  jolt  of  the  heavy  wagon, 
her  cramped  limbs  soon  began  to  ache  intolerably.  The 
morning  was  clear  but  cool ;  and,  confined  and  without  the 
power  of  motion,  she  was  soon  chilled  through.  Desper- 
ate at  last  with  mental  and  physical  torture,  she  suc- 
ceeded with  her  teeth  in  wrenchinj?  asunder  the  bonds 
that  confined  her  hands  ;  and  with  them  it  was  easy 
enough  to  slip  off  the  odious  mufiler,  and  shout, — if 
she  had  a  mind  to.  She  now  succeeded  in  gaining  a 
more  comfortable  position ;  and  the  relief  was  so  great, 
that  she  was  glad  for  a  time  to  enjoy  it.  But  there  was 
still  another  trouble  :  the  air  within  the  wascon  was 
very  close  and  noxious,  smelling  strongly  of  opium  and 
assafoetida,  camphor  and  quinine,  ether  and  sulphur; 
nor  was  it  long  before  the  powerfully-narcotic  vapor 
began  to  have  its  influence  upon  her  system.  In  spite 
of  her  determination  to  the  contrary,  she  soon  dropped 
off  into  a  doze,  which  the  regular,  undulating  motion  of 
the  wagon  tended  to  perpetuate. 

How  long  she  slept  she  had  no  means  of  judging ;  but 
she  was  awakened  at  last  by  the  rattling  of  the  padlock 
upon  the  outside  of  the  door  of  her  prison-house.  It 
swung  open,  and  Sweep's  disagreeable  picture  again  pre- 
sented itself  to  view. 

"Well,  raly,  you  seem  to  be  enjoyin'  yourself;  but 
how  in  thunder  did  you  get  off  your  muzzier,  and  out  of 


226      THE  EEBEL  GENERAl's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

the  limboes  ?  "  lie  exclaimed  in  astonisliment,  and  then 
continued  admiringly,  "  You  always  was  a  cute  critter, 
that's  a  fact ;  and  that's  the  reason  I  like  ye  so  well. 
We'll  make  a  pretty  equal  match;  I  reckon.  Now,  some 
gals  would  have  yelled  like  murder  arter  gettin'  that 
bandage  off;  but  you'd  sense  enough  to  know  better.  I 
guess  you're  pretty  tired  and  hungry  though,  and  would 
like  to  come  out.  an'  straiten,  an'  get  some  grub; 
wouldn't  ye?  "  and  he  held  up  his  hand  to  assist  her  in 
alighting  from  the  wagon. 

She  could  hardly  believe  it^  yet  the  sun  was  high  in 
the  heavens,  and  it  was  past  noon.  The  mules  were  taken 
off,  and  were  eating  at  a  rack  near  by ;  and  the  wagon 
was  standing  in  a  long  shed,  —  out  of  sight  of  the  win- 
dows of  the  little  wayside  inn,  from  which  the  sound 
of  oaths  and  boisterous  mirth  was  borne  upon  every 
breeze.  Catharine  scorned  to  touch  the  mean  wretch  ; 
but  her  bones  ached  from  long  confinement,  and  she  felt 
such  extreme  nausea  from  the  villanous  smells,  that  she 
was  fain  to  accept  any  thing  in  the  shape  of  relief :  so 
she  suffered  him  to  help  her  out  of  the  wagon.  She 
could  hardly  stand  at  first,  but  soon  regained  the  use  of 
her  limbs,  and  began  to  look  keenly  about  for  some 
chance  to  escape.     He  saw  it  at  a  glance. 

"  j^ow.  Miss  Kate,"  he  began,  '•  you  needn't  look  in 
that  way  :  it's  no  sorter  use.  You  can  walk  round  here 
a  spell ;  but  you  can  guess,  as  well  as  I,  why  you  had 
better  keep  out  of  the  range  of  them  winders,  and  get 
back  inter  the  wagon  pretty  soon.  Jack's  gone  arter  a 
basket  of  grub  an'  a  flask  of  water,  to  put  in  'long  side 
on  ye ;  so  you  can  eat  yer  dinner  at  yer  leisure.  TVe 
shall  get  to  Richmond  to-night ;  and  you  needn't  worry 
about  it  one  bit.     I'll  take  jest  as  good  care  on  ye  as  if 


EIDING  IN  STATE.  227 

we  was  spliced ;  and,  when  we   get  there,  we  can  talk 
that  matter  over  at  our  leisure,  and  contrive  what's  best 

to  be  done." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Catharine,  who  by  this  time  had 
considered  the  matter  over,  and  become  a  little  more 
reconciled  to  her  position.  Sure  now  that  Sweep  in- 
tended to  keep  her  for  himself,  in  spite  of  his  inordinate 
love  of  gold,  she  thought  she  had  no  immediate  cause 
for  terror.  Believing  there  would  be  ten  chances  for 
escape  in  Kichmond,  where  there  would  be  one  in  this 
lonely  spot,  she  concluded  to  make  the  best  of  it,  and 
use  a  little  more  policy  in  the  treatment  of  her  captor. 
lie  sat  down  on  a  log,  with  his  back  towards  her,  but 
the  inn  full  in  view,  as  if  perfectly  indifterent  to  her 
movements ;  while  she  walked  back  and  forth  to  get  the 
stiffness  out  of  her  limbs,  and  a  little  exercise.  At  last 
she  began  to  be  uneasy  herself,  for  fear  the  men  would  be 
out ;  and,  going  up  to  him,  she  said,  — 

"I  see  your  mules  have  eaten  up  their  grain,  Mr. 
Sweep ;  and  I  am  ready,  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you." 

"  I'm  tickled  to  death  to  hear  you  say  so  ! "  he  re- 
turned with  a  grin  that  showed  his  long,  broken  yellow 
teeth  to  advantage.  "  I  always  knew  you  was  a  sensi- 
ble o-al.  I'm  a  great  judge  of  wimin  folks  an'  bosses. 
I  like  them  that's  got  the  snap  in 'em',  tu  ;  and  that's  the 
reason  I  like  you.  But  come,  them  fellers  will  be  out ; 
and  we  must  start,  or  they'll  all  be  drunk  as  fury,  and 
full  of  the  devil  as  they  can  be." 

Catharine  offered  no  objections ;  so  he  helped  her  up 
into  the  wagon,  folded  the  blanket  around  her,  and  fixed 
the  cushions  as  nice- as  possible,  thinking  all  the  time, 
how  pretty  she  looked,  and  how  fast  she  was  coming 
around  to  meet  him  half-way. 


228      THE  REBEL  GENERAL' S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

Jack  at  this  moment  came  out  witli  the  provisions, 
which  were  placed  beside  her,  just  as  the  boisterous 
troopers  all  came  bolting  out  of  the  tavern. 

Sweep  instantly  shut  and  locked  the  door,  just  as  one 
of  them  sung  out,  — 

^•' Hallo,  there  !  Boss  is  at  his  toilet  again.  I'll  bet  a 
cool  hundred  that  he's  got  his  hair  new  dyed,  his  teeth 
pegged  in,  and  the  yaller  scoured  out  of  his  complexion 
agin  we  git  back  among  the  j^retty  gals  of  Richmond." 

The  troopers  all  shouted  and  laughed  at  this  sally, 
which  Sweep  pretended  to  take  in  good  part,  as  he  did 
not  like  to  offend  them. 

They  were  soon  ready,  and  started  off  at  a  brisk  trot; 
the  pretty  girls  of  Eichmond  probably  the  subject  of 
thought  of  more  than  one  of  them,  who,  had  they  known 
there  was  one  so  near,  would,  as  Sweep  knew  very  well, 
have  been  sorely  tempted. 

Considerably  rested  and  refreshed,  the  narcotics  did 
not  this  time  completely  overpower  our  heroine  ;  though 
the  stench  from  the  noxious  drugs,  the  warmth  of  the 
afternoon,  and  the  want  of  fresh  air,  sometimes  nearly 
took  away  her  breath.  But  her  mind  was  too  keenly 
alive  to  a  sense  of  the  dangers  that  surrounded  her  to 
allow  her  to  rest  very  comfortably.  Sweep  would,  she 
thought,  probably  take  her  to  some  low  haunt,  where 
silence  could  be  purchased,  and  there  try  to  force  her  to 
his  terms ;  and  all  sorts  of  plans  she  devised  for  escaping 
him,  in  the  variety  of  circumstances  in  which  she  im- 
agined she  might  be  placed. 

If  she  could  do  so,  she  decided  to  claim  Mrs.  Hunter's 
protection,  let  the  consequences  with  regard  to  her  hus- 
band, whom  she  almost  equally  dreaded  with  Sweep,  be 
what  they  might.     Whether  they  believed  her  story  or 


EEDING  IN  STATE.  229 

not,  she  knew  that  she  had  been  guilty  of  no  -wTong. 
The  long  afternoon  was  over  at  last;  and  long  before 
their  arrival,  she  knew,  by  the  varied  sounds,  that  she  was 
nearing  the  city.  She  found,  too,  as  Sweep  had  said, 
tliat  he  had  no  difficulty  in  passing  the  guards,  and 
gaining  admittance.  He  had  only  to  show  his  papers, 
and  all  was  right.  He  had  none  of  the  difficulties  of 
slow  coaches,  red  tape,  or  "mud  up  to  the  hub,"  the 
Union  army  had  to  contend  with  at  that  time,  in  their 
"On  to  Eichmondj"  so  at  Eichmond  they  arrived  just 
after  sunset. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  OYERTURX. EARLY  LOVTJ  TOO  LATE. 


^UT  what   is   the   meaning   of   this   unusual 
^  noise    and  confusion ;    this  murmur  of   ex- 


cited voices,  and  hurrying  feet;  this  roll 
^  of  carriage-wheels,  and  dashing  of  officers  on 
fiery  steeds  through  the  streets ;  these  shouts  of  eager 
newsboys  with  the  evening  papers ;  those  ominous,  trou- 
bled faces  that  Catharine  could  not  see  ? 

Alas  for  the  rebel  hopes  and  prospects !  ISTew  Orleans 
had  been  captured  by  the  Federal  fleet,  and  Eichmond 
was  wild  with  excitement  over  the  loss  of  their  great 
stronghold  of  power  in  the  South-west.  The  streets 
were  full  of  eager  and  excited  people,  hurrying  to  and  fro 
to  gather  the  latest  items  of  news,  and  to  speculate  upon 
its  terrible  and  disastrous  effect  upon  their  cause  and  the 
hopes  of  the  Southern  people.  Generals  and  colonels 
and  cabinet  officers  on  horseback  were  hurr^dng  to  confer 
with  each  other  and  President  Davis,  as  to  what  had 
best  to  be  done  under  the  circumstances. 

Battalions  of  troops  and  heavy  baggage-trains  were 
moving  to  their  several  destinations  ;  and  every  thing  and 
everybody  seemed  to  be  in  commotion.  In  the  midst  of 
it  all,  Sweep  and  his  gang  came  toiling  through  Main 
Street,  riding  close  up  to  the  curbstone  here  to  avoid  a 

230 


THE  OVERTURN.  231 

party  of  government  officers  on  horseback;  turning  off 
there  to  clear  two  or  tliree  rapidly-driven  can-iages ;  stop- 
ping short  yonder  to  escape  collision  with  a  squadron  of 
cavalry.  The  rough  guards,  completely  out  of  patience, 
were  swearing  like  pirates  at  the  multitude  of  obstacles 
that  presented  themselves,  none  of  which  Catharine,  in 
her  hiding-place  clearly  comprehended,  although  she 
thought  they  denoted  some  unusual  occurrence.  But  they 
drew  near  their  destination  at  last ;  and  Sweep  was  con- 
gratulating himself  upon  his  good  luck  in  escaping  so 
many  dangers,  when  he  gave  the  order  for  the  teamster 
to  turn  into  a  narrow  alley.  This  led  to  the  low  tavern 
where  he  usually  lodged  while  he  remained  in  the  city, 
and  where  he  knew  that  he  could  get  such  quarters,  enter- 
tainment, and  concealments  as  he  liked.  The  patient 
driver  turned  the  tired  mules  around  the  shai-p  corner, 
and  the  wheels  made  a  revolution  or  two  to  follow,  when 
a  pair  of  runaway  horses,  attached  to  a  carriage,  came 
dashing  do\^'n  the  street,  followed  by  a  breathless  negro 
driver  and  a  fast  young  gentleman,  from  whom  they  had 
in  some  way  escaped. 

Everj^body  who  could  cleared  the  track.  But,  unfor- 
tunately for  Sweep,  his  big  wagon  was  just  in  their  wake 
at  the  instant.  The  wheels  came  together  with  a  crash 
like  thunder,  smashing  them  into  a  hundred  pieces, 
pitching  the  driver  and  the  carriage-horses  heels  over 
head,  detaching  the  mules  from  their  fastenings,  and  up- 
setting both  vehicles,  in  one  mass  of  inextricable  confu- 
sion.    The  carriage  was  badly  injured  by  the  concussion. 

The  frightened  horses  were  caught  and  righted  up  by 
the  bystanders  without  serious  injury.  The  patient 
mules,  free  of  their  burden,  ran  with  all  speed  towards 
their  accustomed  stable ;  while  the  wagon,  with  its  pre- 


232      THE  KEBEL  GE^TERAL's   LOYAL  BRIDE. 

cious  freight,  went  over  witli  a  crasli  so  sudden  and 
heavy  as  nearly  to  burst  it  asunder. 

The  guards  dismounted  in  a  moment,  cursing  and 
swearing  with  a  will ;  while  men  in  scores  came  running 
from  every  direction  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  So 
many  delays  had  already  occurred,  that  by  this  time  it 
was  dark ;  and  the  street-lam]3S,  being  lighted  up  just  then, 
cast  a  lurid  glare  over  the  scene.  Completely  non23lussed 
at  first,  Sweep  came  to  his  senses  at  last,  and  was  keenly 
alive  to  the  fear  of  some  untoward  exposure. 

^'  Pray  stand  off !  "  he  exclaimed  in  a  sharp,  impatient 
tone  to  the  crowd  that  grew  denser  every  moment.  "  We 
can  take  care  of  our  own  business.  There,  my  good  fel- 
lows, take  hold  now,  and  give  us  a  lift,  while  I  slip 
under  this  old  barrel  for  a  prop,  until  we  can  get  a  wheel 
from  somewhere  to  take  us  home." 

A  dozen  or  more  of  the  guard  took  hold  of  the  heavily- 
laden  vehicle  to  lift  it  up,  while  the  rest  stood  in  the 
background  behind  the  crowd  holding  the  horses.  Up,  — 
up  they  raised  it,  until  they  had  almost  got  it  in  the  right 
position,  when,  from  some  unexplained  cause,  it  slipped 
from  their  hands,  and  went  down  with  a  crash  so  sudden 
and  violent  as  this  time  to  burst  it  completely  asunder. 
Out  rolled  poor  Catharine  into  the  mud,  amid  an  almost 
interminable  mass  of  boxes  and  bags,  bottles  and  baskets, 
packages  and  demijohns,  with  a  variety  of  odors  that  for 
a  moment  were  quite  as  strong,  if  not  as  sweet,  as  those 
from  the  vales  of  Cashmere  or  Araby.  Though  terribly 
jarred  and  bruised  by  both  concussions,  Catharine  was  so 
keenly  alive  to  the  danger  and  the  fear  of  exposure,  that 
she  suppressed  the  shrieks  that  rose  to  her  lips ;  and  it  was 
only  when  Sweep  rushed  forward  and  attempted  to  raise 
her,  that  she  uttered  a  groan.     Her  face  was  very  pale  j 


THE  OVERTURN.  233 

her  eyes  were  staring  with  fright;  her  bonnet  was  hang- 
ing by  the  strings;  her  short  hair  was  dishevelled ;  her 
dress  was  torn,  covered  with  mud,  and  in  complete  dis- 
order; her  shawl  was  torn  from  its  fastenings,  and 
trailing  in  the  mud;  and  her  whole  appearance  extremely 
woe-begone  and  pitiable.  Exclamations  of  surprise  and 
wonder  greeted  her  on  every  hand,  as  was  quite  natural 
under  the  circumstances. 

"  So,  old  boss,  3'ou  kept  jowv  gal  handy ;  did  ye  ?  "  ex- 
claimed one  of  his  troopers  ironically. 

"I  swear,  if  I'd  known  it,  she'd  had  two  strings  to 
her  bow,"  said  another. 

"  Cussed  mean  to  cheat  us  in  this  way ! "  growled  a 
third. 

At  this  moment  a  gentleman  in  the  crowd  pressed  for- 
ward, stood  for  an  instant  regarding  her  earnestly,  then 
exclaimed,  — 

"  Good  heavens,  Catharine !     Is  this  you  ?  " 

She  looked  up  suddenly  at  the  sound  of  that  voice, 
then  around  upon  the  fierce,  bold,  passionate,  and  com- 
miserating faces  that  surrounded  her,  until  her  gaze  met 
one  that  was  eager,  startled,  and  terribly  anxious ;  then, 
forgetting  all  else  but  her  wild  fear,  her  great  peril, 
and  their  old  friendship,  she  impulsively  extended  both 
hands  to  him  for  protection,  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  0  Catharine  !  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  How 
came  you  here  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  sprang  forward, 
and  eagerly  grasped  the  offered  hands. 

But  Sweep  drew  her  back  at  once.  Though  nearly 
frantic  at  this  exposure  of  his  villany,  he  could  not  bear 
to  lose  the  prize  for  which  he  had  risked  so  much,  at  the 
last  moment. 

"  It's  none  of  your  business  how  she  come  here,"  he 

20* 


234      THE  BEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

said  doggedly.  "  She's  my  wife,  —  or  goin'  to  be  ;  and 
she  belongs  to  me,  and  nobody  else.  Here,  Jake,  —  she's 
hurt  somehow,  —  take  hold  here,  and  help  me  carry  her 
to  the  doctor's." 

"  iSTo,  you  don't !  "  echoed  one  of  the  troopers.  "  You've 
cheated  us  like  fury  all  the  way ;  and  you  don't  get  that 
gal  out  of  sight  agin  till  we  know  who  she  is,  where 
she  comes  from,  and  who  she  belongs  tu.  Here,  my 
pretty  one,"  said  he  kindly,  laying  his  hand  upon  her 
arm,  "  does  that  old  chap  tell  the  truth  ?  " 

"No,  no!"  said  Catharine,  suppressing  her  sobs. 
"He  stole  me  from  my  room  last  night;  forced  me  into 
his  big  wagon,  and  to-day  brought  me  on  to  Kichmond. 

0  Lloyd !  if  there  is  any  pity  for  me  in  your  heart, 
protect  and  save  me  from  this  man  ! "  she  exclaimed  in 
tJi  imploring  tone. 

*' Indeed  I  will!"  he  returned  tremulously.  "But 
are  you  seriously  hurt,  Catharine?" 

"I  don't  know.     My  ankle  pains  me  dreadfully;  and 

1  can  scarcely  stand.'^ 

"'  Will  some  of  you  please  get  a  carriage  ?  "  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"Ah,  Dr.  Huntley!  Is  that  you?  I  was  never  more 
glad  to  see  you  in  my  life,"  he  continued  to  a  gentleman 
in  a  carriage,  who  halted  near  them  at  that  moment  to 
ascertain  the  cause  of  the  uproar.  "Will  you  be  kind 
enough  to  take  this  lady  to  my  mother's  ?  She  is  a  par- 
ticular friend  of  hers,  who  has  been  seriously  hurt  by  an 
accident." 

"  Oh,  certainly,  certainly !  "  said  the  complaisant  doc- 
tor, instantly  alighting,  and,  in  spite  of  Sweep's  threats 
and  eager  efforts  to  detain  her,  assisting  Lloyd  to  lift  her 
into  the  carriage,  amid  the  joyful  shouts  of  the  guards. 


EAELY  LOVE  TOO  LATE.         235 

Tlicy  felt  as  if  tliey  had  been  disgraced  and  imposed 
upon  by  the  whole  proceeding,  and  now  utterly  refused 
to  aid  Sweep  in  guarding  and  gathering  up  his  load, 
upon  which  precious  lives,  as  well  as  his  own  gains,  de- 
pended. Some  government  officers  happening  along 
just  then,  however,  took  the  matter  in  hand,  and  helped 
him  out  of  his  difficulty.  But  a  good  many  of  his  bot- 
tles were  broken;  and  he  lost,  not  only  his  intended 
bride,  but  a  good  deal  of  money,  by  the  operation. 

The  surprise  and  joy  of  Mrs.  Hunter  and  her  family 
can  be  better  imagined  than  described,  when  Lloyd  came 
in,  and  in  an  agitated  voice  announced  Catharine's  unex- 
pected arrival.  They  were  truly  astonished,  as  well  as 
rejoiced  ;  for,  after  an  absence  of  five  whole  months, 
they  had  never  hoped  to  see  her  more.  They  all  ran 
out  to  meet  and  welcome  her;  and  Catharine  was  so 
overcome  with  emotion,  that  she  came  near  fainting  in 
Mrs.  Hunter's  arms. 

The  circumstances  of  the  accident  were  soon  explained. 
She  was  still  in  great  pain,  and  her  ankle  was  found  to 
be  dislocated.  After  it  was  set  by  Dr.  Huntley,  she  was 
comparatively  comfortable,  and  able  to  render  some  ac- 
count of  herself. 

She  feared  they  would  not  believe  the  strange  story 
she  had  to  tell,  when  she  found  they  had  not  received 
her  letters,  and  was  glad  to  see  that  not  one  of  the  fam- 
ily appeared  to  doubt  it  in  the  least;  From  the  first 
moment  of  her  return,  they  all  testified  their  joy,  and 
did  every  thing  in  their  power  to  make  her  happy  and 
at  home  once  more. 

But  Lloyd's  presence  there  was  a  great  embarrass- 
ment to  her.  To  remember  the  past;  to  believe,  as  she 
did,  that  he  was  her  daughter's  husband,  and  she  his 


236      THE  EEBEL  GEXEKAL  S  LOYAL  BREDE. 

father-in-law's  wife,  aroused  bitter  memories  of  all  tlie 
loves  and  hopes  and  fear  and  despair  connected  with 
their  past  intercourse.  In  the  terror  of  their  present 
meeting,  she  forgot  every  thing  but  the  fact  of  their  old 
friendship;  but  not  long  did  the  old  memories  sleep. 
When  the  pain,  terror,  and  surprise  were  over,  they 
awoke  to  a  new  life  of  bitterness  and  lasting  regrets. 

Did  he  still  believe  her  the  vile  thing  he  had  wooed 
and  so  nearly  won,  and  then  cast  off  in  disgust  and 
scorn  ?  He  must  of  course  ;  for  who  would  undeceive 
him  ?  Perhaps  he  thought  her  whole  story  a  deception, 
and  an  imposition  upon  the  credulity  of  the  family. 

Catharine  was  so  completely  worn  out  by  all  she  had 
undergone,  that  she  was  very  glad  for  a  few  days  to 
avail  herself  of  an  invalid's  privileges.  But  for  Lloyd's 
skilful  medical  suggestions,  and  Aunt  Dinah's  careful 
nursing,  she  would  have  had  a  dangerous  relapse  of  fever. 

As  it  was,  though  very  lame,  she  soon  began  to  recover 
in  health,  if  not  in  spirits.  She  heard,  casually,  that 
Gen.  Atherton  had  been  transferred  to  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac.  As  no  allusions  were  made  to  their  connec- 
tion, she  concluded  that  her  mysterious  departure,  at  the 
time  of  his  return,  had  prevented  his  acknowledging  her 
as  his  wife.  She  felt  this  to  be  a  present  relief;  though 
it  added  greatly  to  her  anxieties  for  the  future.  Owing 
to  the  severe  sprain,  as  well  as  dislocation,  it  was  some 
days  before  Catharine  could  bear  her  weight  upon  her 
lame  ankle :  so  she  reclined  upon  the  lounge  in  the  sit- 
ting-room ;  while  the  whole  family  vied  with  each  other 
in  paying  her  every  attention. 

"  You  are  all  too  kind  to  me,"  she  said  to  Mrs.  Hunter 
one  day.  "I  cannot  bear  to  put  you  all  to  so  much 
trouble." 


EABLY  LOVE  TOO   LATE.  237 

"  Not  a  word  of  that,  Catharine,"  she  returned.  "  ITo 
you  think  we  have  forgotten  the  toilsome  days,  the  sleep- 
less nights,  the  long  hours  of  pain  and  terror  and  acute 
bodily  and  mental  suffering  you  have  endured  for  us  all, 
that  nothing  we  can  do  for  you  can  ever  repay  ?  And, 
more  than  all  the  rest,  we  know  that  we  owe  the  life  of 
our  dear  Walter  to  your  watcliftd  care.  Oh  !  do  not  be- 
lieve we  are  so  ungrateful  as  to  grudge  the  little  we  can 
do  to  make  you  comfortable,  my  dear  Catharine.  We 
have  missed  and  mourned  you  so  long,  that  we  look  upon 
you  as  one  risen  from  the  dead,  —  a  recovered  and  pre- 
cious treasure  ;  so  you  must  submit  to  be  petted  a  little 
while,  instead  of  petting  others." 

'•'  Well,  you  cannot  be  more  rejoiced  than  I  to  be 
among  kind  friends  once  more.  The  past  five  months 
seem  now  like  some  dreadful  and  terrifying  dream  to 
me." 

"  They  seemed  real  enough  to  us,  Catharine.  And 
oh  !  you  cannot  imagine  how  we  felt  when  you  did  not 
return,  and  we  could  get  no  tidings,  and  feared  some 
dreadful  fate  had  befallen  you !  Brother  Edward  was 
here  at  the  time ;  and  I  am  sure  I  never  saw  a  man 
more  excited  and  anxious  than  he  was  on  your  account. 
He  could  not  have  been  more  so  had  you  been  his 
own  daughter.  He  kept  up  the  search  for  you  until  he 
became  convinced,  I  believe,  that  you  had  gone .  off  on 
purpose,  with  some  of  your  own  Northern  people.  This 
had  been  Philip's  opinion  from  the  first ;  but  I  could 
hardly  believe  that  one  who  had  been  so  honest  and 
truthful  always  could  deceive  us  so  at  last.  I  told 
Edward  so ;  but  he  would  not  believe  it :  yet  I  am 
sure  he  will  be  delighted  to  know  that  you  have  returned, 
and  justified  my  good  opinion.     You  see,  after  Philip 


5 

238   THE  EEBEL  GEXEEAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

had  gone,  and  he  had  looked  everywhere  in  vain,  he 
grew  angry  at  what  he  thought  was  the  imposition  you 
had  practised,  and  could  not  hear  to  hear  your  name 
mentioned.  How  I  shall  delight  in  telling  him  in  my 
letter  to-day  of  your  return,  and  that  I  was  the  nearest 
right,  after  all !  " 

'^  Oh  !  you  need  not  hurry  to  spread  the  news,"  said 
Catharine  eagerly,  and  with  her  cheek  flushing,  not 
only  at  the  thought  of  Gen.  Atherton's  anger,  hut  also 
hecause  the  eyes  of  Lloyd  Hunter  were  eagerly  reading 
her  countenance,  and  she  knew  he  was  wondering  at 
her  too  evident  emotion. 

"I  am  sorry  he  misjudged  me,  for  I  like  to  stand  well 
with  all  my  friends,"  she  continued  earnestly;  "  yet  I 
have  faith  to  believe  that  time  —  first  or  last,  in  life  or 
death  —  will  clear  my  fame  from  all  misconstructions." 
She  thought  of  Lloyd,  but  dared  not  look  at  him  as  she 
said  it. 

'^Ah,  it  may  do  justice  to  all,"  he  said,  as  if  in  an- 
swer to  her  thought,  if  not  her  words  ;  '•  but  sometimes 
that  comes  too  late  for  our  earthly  happiness." 

"  If  too  late  for  earth,  it  is  not  for  heaven,"  she  re- 
turned reverently,  "  where  richer  rewards  will  crown  all 
martyrs  to  the  cause  of  truth  and  virtue." 

^'  We  earnestly  hope  so,"  he  said,  "  yet  cannot  help 
longing  for  them  sometimes  this  side  of  the  dark  river ;  " 
and  the  look  he  gave  her  was  so  earnest,  pleading,  depre- 
cating, yet  withal  full  of  the  old  love-light,  that  it  dwelt 
long  in  Catharine's  memory. 

Did  he  speak  from  experience  ?  Did  he  indeed 
love  her  still?  Had  the  truth  in  some  way  come  to  him 
after  he  was  the  husband  of  another,  and  she  another 
man's   wife  ?    were    the    questions    she    asked    herself, 


EARLY  LOVE  TOO  LATE.     .    239 

that  made  her  heart  throb  with  a  bitter  pain,  and  her 
eyes  droop  beneath  his  searching  yet  raonrnful  gaze. 
Knowing  better  the  position  of  one,  and  guessing  very 
nearly  the  feelings  of  both,  Mrs.  Hunter  turned  away 
with  rare  delicacy.  In  her  heart  she  was  deeply  re- 
gretting the  part  she  had  taken  in  separating  a  pair 
who  were  so  well  fitted  to  make  each  other's  happiness, 
and  planning  how  she  might  bring  them  together  once 
more. 

Catharine  was  very  much  surprised  to  hear  of  all  the 
battles,  sieges,  and  other  remarkable  events  that  had 
transpired  during  her  seclusion.  She  had  heard  strange 
accounts  of  some  of  them,  it  is  true,  from  the  slaves, 
but  so  different  from  the  reality,  that  it  took  her  some 
days  to  get  a  correct  understanding  of  past  events,  or 
the  future  prospects  of  the  country. 

The  rebels  had  rejoiced  over  their  victory  at  Ball's 
Bluff,  and  mourned  over  the  loss  of  several  of  their 
strongholds  along  the  eastern  coast,  previous  to  her 
departure  from  Eichmond.  Since  that  time,  they  had 
met  with  a  fearful  train  of  disasters,  —  at  Port  Eoyal, 
and  Mill  Spring,  Eoanoke  Island  and  Fort  Donelson, 
Pea  Eidge  and  Newbern,  Winchester  and  Pittsburg 
Landing,  besides  the  fight  of  the  Merrimac  with  the 
little  Monitor.  These  and  other  reverses  made  the 
South  reel  almost  to  fainting,  and  distrust  the  skill  of 
her  leaders,  and  brought  her  almost  to  the  brink  of 
ruin  and  despair.  The  loss  of  Eoanoke  Island  espe- 
cially, brought  down  maledictions  upon  the  government, 
as  it  was  considered  the  granary,  larder,  and  back  door 
to  Norfolk,  and  the  canals  and  railroads  back  of  Eich- 
mond. This  growing  dissatisfaction  with  the  secession 
leaders   was   now  so   intensified   by   the   loss  of  New 


240      THE  REBEL  GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

Orleans,  that,  but  for  the  rigid  conscription,  recruits  for 
the  army  could  not  have  been  obtained  ;  and  the  fires 
of  war  would  have  ceased  for  the  want  of  fuel. 

During  her  seclusion,  too,  the  Confederate  Congress 
had  been  removed  to  Eichmond,  which  was  now  the 
centre  and  head  of  both  the  civil  and  military  power  of 
the  Southern  people,  and  the  place,  of  course,  where  all 
office-seekers  and  office-holders  congregated. 

She  found  Mrs.  Hunter  still  engaged  in  the  good  work 
she  had  left  in  her  hands ;  though  not  quite  so  earnestly 
perhaps  as  when  she  was  there  to  assist,  inspire,  and 
encourage  her  in  the  performance  of  her  arduous  labors. 
Nor  was  this  to  be  expected,  with  the  care  of  her  family, 
and  reception  of  visitors,  devolving  so  much  more 
upon  herself  than  formerly.  Walter,  too,  was  still  in 
feeble  health;  and  he  had  suffered  so  much  and  so 
acutely  that  his  mind  was  in  a  very  critical  and  morbid 
condition.  It  was  quite  evident  that  the  doctor's  fears 
of  insanity  or  imbecility  were  not  wholly  groundless. 
By  his  orders  he  was  taken  out  to  ride  every  day,  with 
his  mother  and  sisters,  and  amused  in  every  possible 
way.  Catharine's  return  cheered  and  delighted  him  ; 
and,  when  she  ascertained  the  truth,  she  would  not  allow 
them  to  remit  this  daily  exercise,  as  they  had  done  for 
several  days,  on  her  account. 

Lloyd  generally  went  with  them;  but  one  day,  after 
she  supposed  they  were  all  gone,  and  she  was  alone,  he 
came  in  from  the  street,  and  sat  down  near  to  her.  "I 
thought  you  were  out  for  a  ride  with  the  family,"  she 
said  with  a  slight  flush  of  surprise. 

"  No,"  he  said  :  "  Caesar  was  their  driver  to-day.  But 
wouldn't  you  like  a  ride,  too,  ]\riss  Hale  ?  I  have  a 
buggy  at  the  door ;  and  I  believe  it  would  do  you  good." 


EABLY  LOVE  TOO  LATE.         241 

"  Ko,  thank  you  :  I  think  I  am  better  off  here  until  I 
can  do  somebod}'-  some  good  by  going  out,  and  at  least 
walk,  and  wait  on  myself." 

"How  that  idea  clings  to  you,  Catharine,  —  that  of 
waiting  on  yourself,  and  doing  good  to  somebody !  " 

"  You  know,  I  was  brought  up  where  I  was  obliged  to 
do  the  first :  as  to  the  last,  I  don't  know  that  I  do  more 
good  than  other  people." 

'•  Yes,  you  do.  And,  here  and  now,  let  me  thank  you 
for  all  you  have  done  for  me  and  mine,  and  beg  your 
forgiveness  for  all  we  have  made  you  suffer.  Will  you 
grant  it  ?  "  he  said  in  a  tremulous  tone. 

''  What  do  you  care  for  the  forgiveness  or  good  opin- 
ion of  one  you  think  so  unworthy  ?  "  she  could  not  help 
saying ;  though  the  look  of  pain  and  deprecation  upon 
his  pale,  agitated  face  made  her  hesitate. 

There  was  a  pause.  Suddenly  he  started  up,  caught 
her  hand,  and  knelt  dosvn  beside  her,  as  he  said,  "0 
Catharine  !  more  than  aught  else,  I  want  your  forgive- 
ness for  my  cruel  doubts  and  accusations,  and  the  scorn 
and  desertion,  that  must  have  wrung  your  heart,  for 
which  I  have  repented  in  dust  and  ashes." 

'•But  you  doubt  —  you  wrong  me  still!  and  don't  — 
pray  don't  kneel  to  me." 

"  No,  Catharine.  I  was  undeceived  at  last :  I  knew 
that  I  had  thrown  away  a  priceless  gem  for  a  worthless 
pebble,  exchanged  truth  for  falsehood,  made  your  life 
wretched  as  well  as  my  own,  and  perhaps  brought  down 
my  father's  gray  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave." 

"  That  is  too  true  ;  and  you  did  wrong  me  deeply  and 
cruelly.  But  I  believed  you  were  deceived  yourself,  and 
not  wholly  to  blame,  or  you  would  never  have  done  it. 
So  I  forgave  you  when  my  heart  was  sorest,  and  pitied 

21 


242      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's   LOYAL  BRIDE. 

your  fate  even  more  than  my  own.  The  consciousness 
of  my  own  innocence  and  integrity  upheld  me  in  that 
dark  and  trying  hour,  as  well  as  your  father's  earnest 
sympathy,  nerving  me  for  the  greater  trials  and  sacri- 
fices that  were  to  come/' 

"  And  now,  Catharine "  —  He  hesitated,  and  rose 
with  a  flushed  and  eager  look  and  tremulous  tone. 

"  Now,"  she  continued,  "  the  feeling  that  we  are  but 
blind  instruments  in  the  hands  of  a  higher  power,  who 
moulds  us  to  his  will,  and  shapes  our  destinies,  has  grown 
upon  me  more  and  more,  since  passing  through  so  many 
troubles,  and  escaping  so  many  frightful  dangers.  Is  it 
a  wonder  that  I  am  weak,  nervous,  and  hysterical,  after 
all  I  have  been  called  to  endure  ?  " 

'■'■  Xo,  Catharine ;  yet  the  history  of  your  sufferings 

^eems  like  a  bitter  reproach  to  me.     I,  too,  have  suffered 

deeply  and  bitterlj'-,  jT-et  I  confess  justly,  —  you  unjustly." 

"I  knew  by  your  pale  cheek- and  monrnful  expres- 
sion that  you  had  suffered,"  she  said  pityingly.  "  But 
where  have  you  been,  and  what  have  you  been  doing, 
since  —  since  we  parted." 

"  I  have  been  in  Charleston  prison  most  of  the  time, 
reviled,  persecuted,  accused,  and  for  weeks  lying  at  death's 
door,  without  one  friendly  face  near  me,  or  hand  out- 
stretched to  bestow  needed  comforts ;  and  all  for  this 
accursed  rebellion,  that  is  severing  every  friendly  tie  that 
binds  kindred  or  people  together ;  that  is  desolating  our 
beautiful  land  with  fire  and  sword,  and  watering  it  with 
the  best  blood  of  the  nation." 

"  Why,  Lloyd,  I  am  astonished  !  I  thought  you  be- 
lieved in  the  rebellion ;  upheld  it  by  voice  and  vote  and 
influence;  were  fighting  all  this  time  to  support  and 
make  it  successful ! " 


EAKLY  LOVE  TOO  LATE.         243 

"  I  did  believe  in  it  at  first,  —  God  forgive  rae  !  —  ere  I 
knew  all  the  madly-ambitious  plans  of  our  leaders.  I 
believed  in  State  rights,  and  that,  when  Virginia  went 
into  the  Union,  she  reserved  the  riglit  to  secede  '  when- 
ever that  Union  should  be  perverted  to  the  injury  or  op- 
pression of  her  people.'  Slavery  had  come  down  to  us 
with  our  estates  from  past  generations.  I  felt  it  to  be 
an  evil,  and  a  wrong  to  the  human  race  ;  but  to  us  it 
seemed  to  be  a  necessary  wrong.  We  could  not  fling  it 
off  like  an  old  garment.  It  was  our  capital,  our  support, 
—  the  foundation  of  our  prosperity,  and  yet  our  curse. 

"  To  get  rid  of  it  without  bloodshed  would  have  in- 
volved one  of  the  most  difficult  problems  for  human 
solution.  To  do  it  at  the  Xorth,  where  there  were  but  a 
few  slaves,  was  easy  enough  ;  but,  where  they  composed 
more  than  a  third  of  the  whole  population,  it  was  another 
matter.  We  could  not  agree  to  abolish  it  among 
ourselves ;  that  was  impossible :  yet  we  felt  as  if 
the  North  had  no  business  to  interfere  with  our  pecu- 
liar institutions.  We  thought  we  had  been  defamed, 
wronged,  and  had  terms  dictated  to  us  too  much  by  your 
Northern  people  in  Congress.  Lincoln's  election,  so 
significant  of  our  loss  of  power,  and  the  triumph  of  prin- 
ciples utterly  at  variance  with  our  prosperity  as  slave- 
holders, alarmed  us  for  the  safety  of  our  rights.  It  awak- 
ened us  as  a  people  to  the  necessity  of  standing  up 
stoutly  in  their  defence,  and,  if  possible,  obtaining  some 
better  security  for  them  than  then  existed  in  the  future. 
I,  with  a  good  many  others,  believed,  that,  by  a  united 
and  determined  effort  on  the  part  of  the  whole  South, 
we  could  gain  this  without  bloodshed,  and  still  remain  in 
the  Union  ;  but,  if  we  could  not  get  it,  that  it  was  better 
for  both  to  separate,  and  form  two  republics,  as,  like  oil 


244      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

and  water,  tliey  could  never  peaceably  mingle  into  one. 
I  will  own,  that  the  bitter  and  disappointed  state  of  feel- 
ing in  which  I  came  to  Richmond  at  that  time,  the 
heated  and  eloquent  oratory  to  which  I  listened,  and  the 
private  influences  to  which  I  was  exposed,  had  a  good 
deal  to  do  with  the  formation  of  these  conclusions. 

"  After  I  was  sent  to  Charleston,  I  began  to  be  unde- 
ceived regarding  the  ambitious  projects  of  our  leaders, 
and  bitterly  regretted  joining  the  secession  party,  in 
opposition  to  my  dear  father's  wishes.  I  found  it  was 
not  a  free  republic  that  they  meditated,  but  an  empire 
founded  on  slavery,  of  which  they  were  to  be  the  rulers. 
I  disliked  monarchical  governments,  and  hated  the  Old- 
World  tyrannies.  I  exj^ressed  my  opinions  too  freely  to 
those  around  me.  When  I  refused  to  have  any  thing 
to  do  with  the  attack  upon  Sumter,  I  was  arrested  for 
contempt  of  my  superiors,  and  imprisoned.  Ill  in  body, 
unhappy  in  mind,  and  tortured  by  conscience  for  what  I 
had  done,  I  suffered  unspeakably  during  the  early  days 
of  my  confinement.  When  the  news  came  of  my  father's 
death,  your  consequent  sufferings,  and  Walter's  danger,  it 
nearly  killed  me. 

"Afterwards,  as  I  grew  better,  and  knew  that  the  coun- 
try was  really  convulsed  by  the  horrors  of  civil  war,  I 
became  more  resigned ;  because  I  felt,  that,  if  I  was  re- 
leased, I  could  not  conscientiously  fight  on  either  side. 
I  would  not  fight  to  establish  another  monarchy,  with 
slavery  for  its  corner-stone.  I  could  not  fight  against 
my  beloved  South, — my  own  people,  my  kindred,  and  all 
I  held  most  dear  on  the  earth.  I  could  do  nothing,  then, 
to  prevent  the  carnage,  and  scenes  of  horror,  that  were  be- 
ing enacted,  if  I  were  set  at  liberty.  But  as  I  grew  bet- 
ter, I  began  to  ask  myself  whether  I  might  not  do  some- 


EAELY  LOVE  TOO  LATE.         245 

tiling  to  mitigate  the  pain,  and  assuage  the  anguish,  I 
daily  witnessed  within  the  prison,  and  knew  was  rend- 
ing the  heart  of  the  nation  outside.  I  had  previously 
attended  a  course  of  medical  and  surgical  lectures  in 
Europe,  but  not  with  the  view  of  practising,  except 
for  the  benefit  of  the  people  upon  my  own  plantation. 
I  had  taken  a  deep  interest  in  the  subject  at  the  time ; 
but,  in  the  multiplicity  of  new  scenes  and  events  that 
presented  themselves  afterwards,  I  had  forgotten,  or  at 
least  hidden  away,  my  treasure  of  medical  science  in  a 
napkin.  Sti^nulated  by  the  thought  of  mitigating  some 
of  the  evils  I  had  taken  some  small  part  in  bringing 
upon  the  country,  with  returning  health  I  dug  up  and 
unrolled  my  buried  treasure.  With  plenty  of  leisure, 
and  nothing  else  to  do,  I  set  m3^self  resolutely  to  the 
work  of  mastering  the  science  of  healing.  I  made  a 
friend  of  the  prison,  surgeon,  who,  I  think,  entertained 
similar  views  with  myself,  approved  my  plans,  lent  me 
books,  gave  me  all  the  assistance  in  his  power,  and  was 
pleased  at  last  to  pronounce  me  a  most  ingenious  adept 
in  the  profession.  He  afterwards  interceded  for  me 
with  the  rebel  authorities,  rehearsing,  I  suppose,  my 
merits  and  my  plans.  Finding  I  was  willing  to  forget 
past  injustice,  and  act  for  them  in  the  capacity  of  a  sur- 
geon, —  of  whom  there  was  a  great  scarcity  in  the  arm}^, 
—  they  set  me  at  liberty.  I  came  home  a  few  days  ago 
for  a  visit,  but  expect  to  return  to  the  South,  and  com- 
mence my  labors  very  soon.  Have  I  acted  wisely,  Cath- 
arine, under  all  the  circumstances?" 

"  I  think  so.  And  oh  I  if  you  are  really  a  Union  man 
at  heart,  Lloyd,  let  me  entreat  of  jou  to  use  all  the  in- 
fluence you  acquire  in  discountenancing  the  frightful 
cruelties  that  are  said  to  be  practised  upon  Union  sol- 

21* 


246      THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

diers  by  some  of  your  barbarous  officials.  I  bave  beard 
men  in  power  deny  tbe  facts ;  yet  I  fear  tbere  is  too 
much  truth  in  the  reports  that  come  to  our  ears,  and 
make  one's  blood  run  cold  with  horror.  I  love  my  OYrn 
people,  as  you  love  yours  :  but,  so  far  as  I  have  had  expe- 
rience, I  have  tried  to  be  impartial  in  my  treatment  of 
rebel  and  Union  soldiers ;  for  I  know  that  many  of  the 
former  are  but  the  helpless  tools  of  ambitious  but  un- 
principled leaders,  and  scarcely  responsible  for  their 
acts." 

"  That  is  too  true  ;  yet,  if  I  know  myself,  I  need  no 
urging  to  do  a  Clu-istian's  duty  to  the  vilest,  as  well  as 
the  noblest,  of  God's  creatures.  If  I  needed  any  incite- 
ment to  the  work,  your  noble  and  unselfish  example  of 
continually  returning  good  for  evil  would  furnish  all 
I  require,"  he  said  with  a  fond,  admiring  glance  into 
the  pale,  spiritual  face,  and  mournful,  downcast  eyes  that 
now  seldom  sought  his  own. 

How  pale  and  changed  she  was,  he  thought,  from  the 
bright-eyed,  rosy,  active,  gay  young  girl  he  had  known 
and  loved  in  happier  days ;  and  yet  how  beautiful, 
how  bewitching  still !  She  had  loved  him  once,  he  did 
not  doubt.  Could  she  do  so  still,  after  all  the  suffering 
he  had  caused  her  ? 

Alas  !  he  did  not  dream  that  the  keenest  pang  of  all 
in  her  heart  at  that  moment  was  the  sure  knowledi^e 
that  she  did  love  him  still,  while  bound  irrevocably  to 
another,  and  the  greatest  wonder,  why,  bound  in  the 
same  way  himself,  he,  in  the  history  of  his  trials,  should 
never  once  mention  his  wife's  name. 

Where  was  she  ?  Why  did  no  one  ever  allude  to 
her  when  they  could  help  it  ?  Simpl}^  out  of  delicacy 
ko  her  feelings ;  and,  for  similar  reasons,  she  had  never 


EAELY  LOVE  100  LATE.         247 

iu quired  after  liim  or  liis  supposed  bride.  The  arrival 
of  the  family  at  this  moment  put  an  end  to  the  conver- 
sation. 

The  next  da}',  however,  the  same  thing  happened; 
and  Catharine  to  her  regret,  for  she  knew  it  was  a 
dear-bought  pleasure,  was  again  left  tete-a-tete  with  her 
former  lover. 

The  truth  was,  that  Mrs.  Hunter,  now  sincerely  re- 
gretting the  past,  deeply  impressed  by  Catharine's  worth 
and  nobleness,  and  believing  they  still  loved  each  other, 
had  resolved,  if  possible,  to  bring  about  the  match.  So, 
meeting  him  in  the  street  this  time,  she  sent  him  home 
to  entertain  and  cheer  her  guest.  Knowing  nothing  of 
her  real  position  regarding  her  brother,  she  did  not 
dream  of  the  harm  she  was  doing  in  leaving  them  to- 
gether thus.  Catharine  did  realize  it,  but  dared  say 
nothing  to  prevent  it.  As  soon  as  they  were  alone,  how- 
ever, discarding  politeness,  she  apparently  became  deeply 
interested  in  a  book  she  was  reading,  half  hoping  he 
would  be  disgusted,  and  leave  the  room.  He  walked 
around  it  once  or  twice,  looked  out  of  the  windows,  trifled 
with  his  sister's  fancy-work,  and  at  last,  out  of  patience 
Witt  her  persistent,  and  as  he  believed  intentional,  in- 
attention, he  came  up  to  where  she  was  sitting.  Gently 
taking  the  book  from  her  hands,  he  said  in  a  slightly- 
tremulous  tone,  — 

"  Catharine,  let  us  for  once  in  our  lives  fully  under- 
stand each  other.  Am  I  wrong  in  believing  that  we  once 
loved  each  other,  —  tenderly  and  truly  ?  " 

''  I  think  not,^'  she  murmured,  bluohing  deeply.  "  But, 
Lloyd,  it  is  not  for  either  of  us  now  to  turn  back  the 
leaves  of  the  book  of  destiny." 

"  Why  not !     0  Catharine  !  may  we  not  tear  out  one 


248      THE  EEBEL  GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

page  blotted  with  tears,  and  begin  a  new  and  fairer 
record  ?  " 

"  It  is  impossible.  The  bitter  consequences  of  the 
acts  there  recorded  must  make  our  happiness  or  misery- 
while  life  endures." 

"  Oh,  say  not  that  you  have  ceased  to  love  me ;  that  my 
sccrn  and  desertion  have  turned  your  love  to  loathing ! " 

"  Better  a  thousand  times  if  it  had ! "  she  exclaimed 
with  deep  emotion. 

"  No :  love,  with  all  its  hopes  and  fears  and  penal- 
ties, is  a  precious  treasure ;  though  you  may  think  mine 
for  you,  increased  as  it  is  a  hundred-fold  by  absence  and 
the  consciousness  of  ill-desert,  unworthy  of  your  accept- 
ance." 

"  0  Llo,yd,  Lloyd !  This  to  me !  And  you  the  hus- 
band of  another !  "  she  exclaimed  excitedly  ;  while  burn- 
ing blushes  crimsoned  her  pale  cheeks,  and  the  light  of 
injured  delicacy  flashed  from  her  eyes. 

'•'  I  the  husband  of  another  !  O  Catharine  !  what  a 
mistake  !  You  did  not  think  I  married  Nell  Atherton  ; 
did  you  ?  " 

"  I  supposed  you  did.  You  wrote  that  you  were  about 
to  do  so :  I  never  knew  but  what  you  had." 

"  Strange,  —  how  very  strange,  that,  in  all  this  time, 
they  never  told  you ! "  he  said  with  an  evident  feeling  of 
relief  This,  then,  was  the  bar  —  the  only  one,  he  hoped 
—  to  their  future  union.  This  of  course  was  the  reason 
why  she  had  been  so  distant  and  reserved.  "  Ah,  Catha- 
rine !  "  he  resumed  in  a  gayer  tone,  "  it  seems  next  to  im- 
possible that  you  could  remain  in  our  family  more  than 
a  year  without  learning  the  fact,  tliat  Nell  Atherton, 
thanks  to  my  good  genius,  deserted  me  at  the  last  mo- 
ment.    She  eloped,  and  was  married  privately  to  Count 


EAELY  LOVE  TOO  LATE.         249 

Laroi,  a  Parisian  adventurer,  whom  she  first  met  in 
Eiu-ope.  As  a  last  legacy,  and  indeed  a  precious  one, 
she  left  me  a  letter,  in  which  she  boasted  of  the  mean- 
ness and  lies  and  duplicity  by  which  she  had  won  me 
from  3'ou,  but  to  cast  me  off  in  the  end,  —  out  of  re- 
venge for  some  fancied  slights  during  our  past  inter- 
course." 

"  This,  then,  Avas  the  way  in  which  you  found  out  the 
truth ;  was  it  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  oh !  you  cannot  imagine  what  a  comfort 
and  consolation  the  thought  of  your  purity  and  truth 
was  to  me  in  m}'  gloomy  prison-house,  like  a  ray  of 
light  shining  into  the  deepest  gloom.  But  that  light 
was  suddenly  quenched,  when  I  came  home  upon  the 
wings  of  love  and  impatience  to  find  that  j'ou  had  so 
strangely  disappeared,  and  that  no  one  knew  what  had 
become  of  you.  When  I  found  j'ou  so  unexpectedly  in 
the  street  that  night,  and  rescued  you  from  such  friglit- 
ful  danger,  it  again  shone  out,  like  a  star  of  hope,  cheer- 
ing me  by  its  benign  radiance.  And  now,  dear  Catha- 
rine, that  all  these  sad  mistakes  are  cleared  up,  you  must 
not  say  that  it  is  in  vain  for  me  to  treasure  such  fond  re- 
membrances of  you  in  my  heart." 

'•  Oh,  it  is  !  it  is  !  I  must  not  listen  to  such  words 
from  your  lips  !  "  she  exclaimed  in  a  distressed  tone. 

"  What !  You  do  not  forbid  my  loving  you,  Catha- 
rine ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  must !  It  is  a  sin,  —  God  forgive  me !  I  am 
already  bound  by  the  most  solemn  vows  to  another ;  "  and, 
bowing  her  head  upon  her  hands,  she  gave  way  to  a 
passionate  burst  of  tears. 

He  did  not  comprehend  it  yet:  he  had  no  idea  of 
the  magnitude  of  the  trouble,  as  he  laid  his  hand  caress- 


250      THE  BEBEL  GENEEAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

ingly  upon  her  bowed  head,  and  asked  in  a  deeply-ear- 
nest tone,  — 

"  What  Yows,  Catharine  ?  Surely,  you  have  not  prom- 
ised to  wed  that  scoundrel  Sweep  or  some  daring  out- 
law ?  " 

"  'No,  no  !  But  oh,  it  is  even  worse  than  that ! "  she 
sobbed ;  "  for  I  am  ah-eady  the  wife  of  a  general  in  the 
rebel  army." 

"My  God!  Is  this  true,  Catharine?"  he  exclaimed 
fiercely,  and  starting  up  suddenly  with  a  wild,  question- 
ing, yet  unbelieving  look. 

"  It  is  the  truth,  Lloyd  ;  and  you  must  know  it  now, 
whatever  comes  of  it,"  she  said,  raising  her  bowed  head, 
and  trying  to  suppress  her  bitter  sobs.  ''  I  have  been  a 
wife  for  months.  When  or  why  I  became  so,  I  dare  not 
tell  you.  That  is  a  profound  secret,  and  for  the  present 
must  remain  so.  I  have  never  lived  with  my  husband  a 
day  or  an  hour  as  his  wife  ;  though  I  have  solemnly 
promised  to  do  so  when  he  claims  me,  and  never  to 
leave  the  South  without  his  consent.  My  abduction  last 
Kovember  vras  all  that  prevented  me  from  becoming  his 
acknowledged  wife.  When  he  hears  of  my  return,  he 
may  doubt,  disown,  and  cast  me  off,  or  come  and  claim 
me  at  any  moment.  And  this  it  is  that  casts  a  shadow 
dark  as  midnight  over  my  whole  future  life." 

Lloyd  stood  for  some  time  still  as  a  statue,  dumb  with 
amazement,  and  looking  at  her  drearily,  as  if  he  did  not 
comprehend  the  truth  :  then,  reeling  as  if  struck  by  a 
heavy  blow,  he  sunk  upon  a  seat,  and,  with  a  bitter 
groan,  buried  his  face  in  his  clasped  hands. 

The  sight  of  his  wild,  tearless  agony  wrung  Catha- 
rine's heart  more  keenly  than  the  sobs  that  burst  from 
her  own. 


EARLY  LOVE  TOO   LATE.  251 

"  0  Lloyd,  don't !  "  she  exclaimed  when  she  could  hear 
it  no  longer.     "  You  must  hear  it,  even  as  I  have  done." 

Her  voice  roused  him.  He  raised  his  head,  and  looked 
at  her  gloomily,  with  a  flushed  face,  and  dry,  hloodshot 
eyes,  as  he  said,  — 

"  You  do  not  love  this  man,  Catharine  ?  " 

"  I  only  hope  I  shall,  if  he  comes  to  claim  me,"  she 
returned. 

"  Does  my  mother  know  this  ?  " 

"  1^0,  Lloyd ;  nor  must  she,  or  any  one  else,  until  he 
sees  fit  to  announce  the  fact  ?  " 

"  But  who  is  this  man,  Catharine  ?  —  that  I  may  know 
who  has  defrauded  me  of  what  I  hold  most  dear  in  life  !  " 
said  he  fiercely. 

"  I  must  not  tell  you :  you  will  know  soon  enough,  if 
he  comes  to  claim  me.  If  he  douhts  and  hesitates,  — 
jealous  of  my  seeming  escape  from  him,  and  long  seclu- 
sion, —  it  is  best  for  you,  and  all  others  here,  to  be  igno- 
rant of  his  name." 

"You  were  forced  into  this  marriage,  Catharine?" 

"  No  :  I  did  it  to  save  —  What  did  I  say  ?  Out  of  two 
great  evils,  I  chose  this  as  the  less,  when  all  brighter 
hopes  were  dead  in  my  tortured  heart." 

"  Does  this  man  love  you,  Catharine  ?  " 

"  jMost  ardently  and  passionately,  I  do  believe ;  and 
with  a  magnetic  fervor  that  might  win  a  return  from 
most  disengaged  female  hearts." 

"•  I  have  done,"  said  he  drearily.  "'  Life  is  now  robbed 
of  every  charm,  and  is  no  longer  sweet  to  me.  I  am 
now  readj'  to  go  to  the  front ;  and,  should  some  stray 
bullet  pierce  my  heart,  it  shall  be  welcome." 

"You  must  not  talk  or  think  in  this  wild  way.  Is  my 
fate  preferable  to  yours,  do  you  think  ?  " 


252      THE  BEBEL  GEXERAl's  LOYAI.  BRIDE. 

"No,  no:  it  is  a  thousand  times  worse." 
"  Yet  I  shall  try  and  make  the  best  of  it.  It  may 
put  far  greater  power  in  my  hands  for  good  or  evil  tlian 
any  I  might  liave  chosen.  And  if  so,  for  the  use  I 
make  of  that  power,  I  shall  have  to  render  a  strict  ac- 
count in  the  judgment.  But,  Lloyd,  what  is  all  the  good 
or  evil  one  feeble  woman  can  accomplish,  in  comparison 
with  what  it  is  in  your  power  to  do  for  poor,  suffering 
humanity,  if  your  life  and  health  are  spared  to  you  ?  Oli, 
think  of  the  hundreds  and  thousands  of  noble  men  from 
Korth  and  South,  East  and  West,  the  stay  and  prop 
and  most  precious  treasure  of  many  a  happy  household, 
—  bleeding,  groaning,  and  dying  on  battle-fields,  and  in 
prisons  and  hospitals ;  rending  the  skies  with  agonized 
prayers  for  the  help  that  never  comes  to  them  !  Think 
of  this,  and  then  say  whether,  in  the  power  and  the  skill 
to  heal  and  to  save,  Heaven  has  not  bestowed  upon  you 
an  inestimable  gift,  not  to  be  lightly  cast  away.  In  the 
path  of  duty,  if  anywhere  on  earth,  peace  will  come  to 
us  both,  if  not  the  perfect  happiness  we  sigh  for.  This 
life  will  soon  be  over;  and,  if  we  perform  those  duties 
faithfully,  our  reward  is  sure." 

"  Oh  !  I  know :  you  are  right  in  every  thing.  Yet, 
Catharine,  I  cannot  now  bear  this  crreat  trial  as  I  oucrht. 
I  know  you  ought  not  to  be  blamed,  however  it  may  be 
with  him ;  yet  I  must  go  away  from  you,  or  go  mad. 
In  other  scenes,  on  bloody  battle-fields  and  in  prisons 
and  hospitals,  I  may  sometimes  forget  that  another  man's 
wife  is  dearer  than  my  life  to  me.  Oh  !  I  must  not  for- 
get my  hope  of  heaven,  or  a  Christian's  life-work,  in  a 
sinful  earthly  love.  If  we  never  again  meet  on  earth,  I 
hope  and  pray  that  we  may  meet  in  heaven,  that  perfect 
world,  where  merely  earthly  ties  and  relationships  are 


EAELY  LOVE  TOO  LATE.         253 

sundered  and  obliterated,  and  those  who  love  truly  love 
eternally.'' 

He  took  her  hand  as  he  said  this,  pressed  it  to  his  lips, 
laid  it  gently  in  lier  lap,  and  then,  with  a  pale,  agonized 
face,  and  a  look  that  spoke  volumes  of  regret  and  tor- 
tured love,  turned,  and  left  the  apartment. 

When  Catharine  rose  the  next  morning,  Lloyd  was 
gone.  He  had  received  a  sudden,  and,  as  she  judged 
from  his  looks,  unwelcome  summons  to  the  front,  Mrs. 
Hunter  said ;  and  he  had  commissioned  her  to  bid  Cath- 
arine farewell. 

Catharine  knew  that  it  was  best  for  both  to  part  under 
the  circumstances ;  and  she  honored  him  for  the  reso- 
lution, and  strength  of  moral  principle,  that  sent  him 
away  from  her  at  this  time.  Yet  oh !  the  dreary,  aching 
void,  his  presence  alone  could  fill,  that  was  left  to  torture 
and  swell  with  vain  regrets  her  tried  yet  faithful  heart. 
The  knowledge  that  he  loved  her  still,  that  he  had  never 
been  the  husband  of  another,  and  that  he  had  never,  at 
heart,  been  unfaithful  to  her,  made  her  own  fate  still 
harder  to  bear. 


iS 


CHAPTEE,  Xiy. 

CATHARIXE    IX   LIBBY   PRISON. RELEASED. 

^ES.  HUXTEE,  as  she  had  proposed  to  do, 
wrote  immediately  to  her  brother  of  Cath- 
arine's return  to  Eichmond.  The  next  mail 
brought  a  reply,  not  only  to  her,  hut  to  Cath- 
arine, overflowing  with  expressions  of  joy  and  gratitude 
for  her  deliverance  from  so  many  dangers.  He  wanted 
her  to  write  him  all  the  particulars  of  her  captivities  and 
escapes  at  once,  he  said :  and  she  might  be  very  sure 
of  a  close  questioning  when  they  did  meet ;  which  he 
hoped  and  trusted  would  be  very  soon. 

Hardly  had  Catharine  got  over  the  excitement  inci- 
dent to  Lloyd's  departure,  and  the  new  train  of  fears  and 
dread  aroused  by  the  reception  of  this  letter,  ere  a  new 
source  of  trouble  presented  itself.  This  was  caused  by 
the  wild  alarm  created  in  Eichmond  by  the  near  ap- 
proach of  the  Union  army.  They  were  said  to  number 
at  least  two  hundred  thousand  men.  After  many  delays, 
they  were  known  to  be  advancing  up  the  peninsula, 
under  the  leadership  of  Gen.  McClellan,  knocking  at  the 
gates  of  Yorktown,  and  seriously  threatening  the  rebel 
capital  In  the  midst  of  this  new  trouble,  one  afternoon 
when  Catharine  was  alone,  the  family  having  gone  out 
to  ride,  she  was  startled  by  the  sudden  entrance  of  a 

254 


CATHARINE  IN  LIDBY  PRISON.  255 

party  of  soldiery,  whom  Dinah's  vehement  protestations 
could  not  prevent  from  forcing  themselves  into  her 
presence.  The  leader  of  the  band,  a  brutal  fellow,  with 
about  as  much  delicacy  or  sense  of  propriety  as  a  bull- 
dog, advanced,  without  waiting  for  compliments,  and, 
laying  his  hand  on  her  arm,  demanded  to  know  if  her 
name  was  Catharine  Hale. 

"Yes,"  she  faltered,  so  terrified  at  the  thought  of 
some  new  danger,  that  she  forgot  that  she  had  any 
other. 

"  Then  you  are  my  prisoner,"  he  returned  doggedly. 
"  Prisoner,  indeed !  "  screamed  Aunt  Dinah,  who  had 
followed  them  into  the  room,  and  advanced  to  Catharine's 
side  to  protect  her  from  insult.  "  Prisoner  in  mistis's 
own  house!"  she  continued.  "Why,  the  poor  dear 
lamb's  jest  got  out  o'  de  hands  o'  de  Philistines,  an'  de 
jaws  o'  Daniel  in  de  lion's  den,  an'  now  ye  want  to  get 
her  in  agin,  du  ye?  Pll  send  for  mistis,  an'  have  ye  put 
in  purgatory  yerself,  if  ye  don't  clare  out,"  said  she 
vengefully. 

"  Hold  yer  jaw!  or  'twill  be  the  worse  for  you,"  he 
returned  with  his  hand  on  his  pistol,  and  with  a  fierce, 
steely  gleam  in  his  eyes,  that  quelled  poor  Aunt  Dinah's 
belligerence  at  once. 

"  Get  your  things  on  at  once,  ma'am ;  for  you  must 
go  with  us,"  he  continued  to  Catharine. 

"  Where,  and  for  w^hat  ?  "  she  tremblingly  demanded. 

"To  the  Libby  Prison,  ma'am.  Such  are  my  or- 
ders ;  but  for  what,  you  know  better  than  I." 

"  But  I  have  done  no  wrong,"  she  faltered.  "  I  am 
innocent  of  all  thought  of  crime." 

"  That's  your  lookout,"  he  returned.  "  But  hurry  up. 
We've  no  time  for  trifling :  our  orders  are  imperative. 


256      THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BKIDE. 

"  Pray  wait  until  the  return  of  Mrs.  Hunter  ?  " 

"Not  another  moment,  ma'am.  We've  spent  too 
much  time  already." 

"  But  I  am  very  lame :  I  can  hardly  walk  or 
stand." 

"  We  can  carry  you  out  to  the  hack,  ma'am." 

Catharine  rose  dizzily  to  her  feet,  stepped  forward, 
and  would  have  fallen,  but  for  Dinah's  watchful  eye  and 
protecting  arm. 

''  Get  my  things,  Dinah,"  she  murmured  huskily. 

"  'Tis  my  fate,  and  God's  will  be  done.  Tell  Mrs. 
Hunter,  that,  of  whatever  they  accuse,  or  falsely  prove 
against  me,  I  am  innocent." 

"  It's  some  o'  dat  ole  sneak's  diveltry,  Dinah  no  doubt. 
He  want  revenge,  'cause  Miss  Kate  no  want  him.  Mis- 
sus git  it  all  right  when  she  come  home." 

"  I  hope  so,  Dinah,  but  fear  the  worst.  Bid  them  all 
good-by  for  me,  and  especially  poor  little  Walter. 
There,  I  am  ready  ;  "  and,  taking  Dinah's  arm,  she  hob- 
bled out  to  the  carriage,  and  was  whirled  away. 

Dinah  followed  in  hot  haste  to  see  if  it  was  really  a 
fact  that  Catharine  was  carried  to  the  prison,  or  only  a 
pretence  to  take  her  off  somewhere  else.  But  there  was 
no  deception  about  it  this  time.  She  saw  the  gloomy 
prison-doors  close  over  her  favorite,  and  returned  to  re- 
port the  fact  to  Mrs.  Hunter  upon  her  arrival  home. 
Mrs.  Hunter  could  not  rest  until  she  had  been  to  the 
authorities,  and  found  out  the  truth.  She  was  accused, 
upon  the  strongest  proofs  it  was  said,  of  being  a  spy  in 
the  Union  service  for  months  past,  and  of  holding  a 
secret  correspondence  with  the  enemy.  Mrs.  Hunter 
was  deeply  shocked.  She  could  not  believe  in  Catha- 
rine's guilt}  and  yet  the  story  of  her  late  mysterious 


CATBLVEIXE  IN  LIBBY  PRISON.  257 

adventures  and  long  seclusion  was  strange  enough  to 
raise  torturing  'doubts  in  the  minds  of  her  best  friends. 
She  went  the  next  day,  and  had  an  affecting  interview 
with  her  in  the  prison,  and  carried  her  a  few  tilings  to 
make  her  more  comfortable  :  but  that  was  all  she  was 
allowed  to  do ;  for  the  authorities  just  then  were  re- 
garding with  more  than  usually  jealous  eyes  all  who 
had  the  least  intercourse  or  correspondence  with  their 
enemy,  and,  as  prisoners,  treated  them  with  unusual 
rigor. 

Put  into  a  narrow,  filthy  cell,  overflowing  with  ver- 
min, Catharine  had  a  chance  to  taste  the  sweets  of  prison- 
life,  not  at  all  qualified  by  the  fact,  that  her  jailer  had, 
from  some  cause,  been  at  variance  with  the  families  with 
whom  he  knew  she  had  been  associated.  For  this  and 
other  reasons,  Mrs.  Hunter  and  her  family  were  refused 
further  communication  with  her.  Perhaps,  too,  that 
lady's  increasing  doubts  of  her  innocence  prevented  her 
making  any  very  strenuous  exertions  in  her  behalf 

But  the  decisions  of  cliildhood  and  ignorance,  those 
keen  judges  of  human  character  and  motive,  were 
wholly  in  Catharine's  favor.  Neither  the  children  nor 
the  slaves  of  the  household  could  be  made  to  believe  a 
word  against  their  favorite.  If  she  had  been  well  and 
strong,  Catharine  would  not  have  felt  the  privation  of 
coarse  prison-fare,  want  of  rest,  and  discomfort  of  every 
kind,  as  much  as  she  did ;  but  she  was  weak  and  ner- 
vous, and  could  scarcely  eat  the  repulsive  yet  scanty 
food  set  before  her.  She  could  not  sleep  on  her  hard 
straw  bunk,  because  of  the  loathsome  insects  crawling 
over  her.  She  knew  not  who  were  her  accusers,  or  the 
extent  of  her  implication;  "and  the  future  certainly 
looked  very  dark  and  cheerless.     Yet  sh^  was  saved  the 

22* 


258      THE  EEBEL  GENEEAL'S  LOYAL  BllIDE. 

knowledge  of  the  terror  and  excitement  that  swept  over 
Kichmond,  as  the  miserable  days  and  nights  dragged 
their  slow  lengjth  alonsj. 

They  brought  battles  and  sieges,  the  capture  of  Nor- 
folk, and  destruction  of  millions  of  dollars'  worth  of 
rebel  property  to  prevent  its  falling  into  Union  hands. 
It  also  brought  distraction  into  the  councils,  and  vacilla- 
tion and  terror  into  the  hearts  of  the  rebel  authorities, 
and  the  ad.journment  of  the  rebel  Congress  to  assure  its 
members  of  their  own  safety. 

At  last,  after  months  of  inexplicable  delay,  the 
Union  army  began  to  advance  from  Yorktown  towards 
[Richmond.  The  panic  became  fearful.  The  wbole  city 
was  wild  with  terror  and  excitement;  and  the  people 
were  flying  in  every  direction.  Ever}'-  rail-car,  and 
vehicle  of  every  description,  was  pressed  into  the  service, 
and  overloaded  with  passengers.  The  streets  were  full 
of  people,  —  going,  they  hardlylinew  where  themselves, 
—  anywhere  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  tlie  cruel,  hated 
Yankees.  Piles  of  furniture,  boxes  of  goods,  and  bag- 
gage of  every  description,  obstructed  the  streets,  wharves, 
and  depots;  while  children  were  crying,  dogs  barking, 
soldiers  swearing,  negroes  running,  and  everything  and 
everybody  seemed  in  the  greatest  commotion. 

But  there  was  still  an  element  of  firmness  left  in  the 
minds  of  a  few,  says  one  historian,  "  who  strove,  by 
every  argument  in  their  power,  to  quiet  the  people,  turn 
their  terror  into  ridicule,  and  induce  them  to  stay  at 
home,  and  prepare  for  the  worst." 

Among  those  who  led  this  general  stampede  of  the 
citizens,  was  Mrs.  Davis,  the  wife  of  the  President, 
with  Mrs.  Hunter,  and  other  ladies  of  distinction,  ac- 
companied by  their  families,  who  fled  to  Paleigh,  N.C. 


CATHARINE  IN  LIBBY  PRISON.  259 

It  is  now  a  matter  of  liistorj^,  that,  while  the  Union 
army  had  been  for  three  whole  months  journeying  by 
apparently  easy  yet  really  painful  stages  from  Washing- 
ton to  Richmond,  the  Confederates  had  spent  every  hour 
of  that  time  in  preparing  for  them  a  bloody  reception. 
They  enlarged  their  resource*  in  every  possible  way ; 
prepared  elaborate  defences,  mercilessly  enforced  the 
conscription,  gathered  re-enforcements  from  ISTorfolk, 
Charleston,  North  Carolina,  the  Shenandoah  Valley  and 
every  other  available  source,  until  they  had  concentrated 
the  largest  army  they  were  ever  able  to  put  in  the  field, 
as  they  said  themselves  long  afterwards.  They  also 
said,  what  was  undoubtedly  the  truth,  that  "  our  army 
waited  and  waited, — uncertain  which  course  to  pursue, 
our  authorities  divided  in  opinion,  —  when  a  rapid  advance 
on  either  route  would  have  insured  them  a  victory.'' 

But  they  waited  too  long.  The  summer  heats  and 
miasma  of  the  interminable  swamps  of  the  Chickahom- 
iny,  were  quite  as  sure  death  as  the  enemy's  guns. 
That  enemy  was  now  fully  prepared  to  meet  them.  Ar- 
rogant and  boasting,  exasperated  by  their  late  losses, 
and  fully  aroused  to  a  sense  of  their  danger,  they  were 
now  ready  to  fight  with  the  most  courageous  daring,  and 
reckless  disregard  of  human  life,  in  defence  of  their  sa- 
credly-cherished capital.  Around  this,  for  more  than  a 
year,  immense  labor  had  been  expended  in  constructing 
redoubts,  rifle-pits,  horn  works,  and  enfilading  and  case- 
mated  batteries ;  while  every  other  imaginable  sort  of 
defence  crowned  every  hillock,  and  swept  every  road 
and  defile,  for  miles  around  the  city.  So,  with  very 
good  reasons  for  hoping  that  their  skilfully-constructed 
works  were  impregnable,  they  awaited  the  onset  of  the 
Union  army. 


260      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

'Ten  weary  days  Catharine  had  been  in  the  loathsome 
prison,  without  seeing  one  friendly  human  face.  Ten 
years  of  agony  and  discomfort  they  seemed  to  her,  when 
she  was  startled  one  evening,  at  an  unusual  hour,  by  the 
sound  of  approaching  footsteps  and  voices,  and  the  rat- 
tling of  a  key  in  the  lock  of  her  door.  One  of  those 
voices  thrilled  her  like  an  electric  shock,  and  brought 
her  to  her  feet  in  an  instant.  The  door  opened ;  and  a 
light  that  almost  blinded  her  flashed  in  upon  the  mid- 
night darkness,  followed  by  the  under-keeper,  and  beside 
him  —  she  knew  she  could  not  mistake  those  deep,  low 
tones  —  was  Gen.  Atherton. 

She  shrunk  back  to  the  wall,  gazing  at  them  with  wild, 
blinded  eyes,  as  the  keeper  set  down  the  light,  and  left 
the  room ;  and  the  general  advanced  to  meet  her. 

"  0  Catharine  !  is  it  thus  we  meet  after  months  of 
painful  separation  and  vain  longing  ?  "  he  said,  as  he 
took  her  in  his  arms,  and  folded  her  to  his  bosom. 

So  utterly  wretched  and  miserable  was  she  feeling  at 
the  time,  that  there  was  really  a  sense  of  friendliness 
and  protection  in  the  clasp  of  those  strong,  loving  arms 
for  a  moment ;  a  powerful  magnetism  in  his  looks  and 
tones,  that  enchained  her  senses ;  a  feeling  of  relief  and 
companionship  in  the  light  that  once  more  illumined 
her  dark  prison-cell. 

Eor  several  minutes  he  held  her  silently,  overpowered 
himself  by  strong  emotion  :  then  he  gently  raised  her 
head,  and  looked  lovingly  yet  searchingly  into  her  agi- 
tated countenance. 

"  How  you  have  changed  !  "  he  said  with  a  deep  sigh. 
"  It  breaks  my  heart  to  see  you  in  this  gloomy  prison- 
cell,  with  these  sunken  cheeks,  hollow,  tear-stained,  glit- 
tering eyes,  and  troubled  brow.      How  pale,  shadowy, 


EELEASED.  261 

and  unreal  you  look !  Your  hair,  too,  those  beauteous 
auburn  curls,  all  sacrificed !  0  Catharine !  what  am 
I  to  tliink  of  such  a  shocking  change,  —  of  all  these 
strange  adventures  and  frightful  accusations  ?  " 

"  What  3'OU  please,''  said  she  proudly,  withdrawing 
herself  from  his  clasp,  and  raising  her  downcast  eyes  to 
his  face.  ^'  You  said  once,  that  no  one  who  was  a  judge 
of  the  human  countenance  could  look  into  mine,  and 
doubt  my  innocence,  purity,  and  truth.  Has  their  loss 
effected  all  these  changes,  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  Xo,  no.  To  me  you  are  innocent  and  truthful  still," 
he  said,  after  a  prolonged  and  searching  glance,  "  what- 
ever others  may  think.  But,  dear  Catharine,  you 
must  be  aware  that  circumstances  have  been  and  are 
terribly  against  you." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  I  ought  to  blame  no  one  for  doubting 
me.  I  wondered  even  that  Mrs.  Hunter  and  her  fam- 
ily did  not  when  I  returned  to  Richmond  in  such  a 
suspicious  manner  a  few  weeks  ago." 

"Catharine,  did  you  write  me  all  the  particulars 
about  that  mysterious  disappearance  last  autumn  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so,  — at  least,  all  I  thought  of  consequence 
to  you,  or  necessary  to  explain  my  position.     But  why  ?  " 

"Because  those  explanations  seemed  imperfect,  and 
left  the  painful  impression  upon  my  mind  that  there 
was  something  you  wished  to  keep  back  and  conceal 
from  me." 

A  flush  of  surprise  and  shame,  but  not  guilt,  instantly 
suffused  Catharine's  face,  revealing,  as  if  by  magic,  the 
truth  of  his  suspicions. 

"  I  see  I  was  right,"  he  said  with  a  keen  glance  and 
darkening  frown.  "  You  cannot  hide  your  thoughts 
from  me,  Catharine,  if  you  would." 


262      THE  EEBEL  GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"  I  did  not  and  do  not  wish  to,  except  for  your  own 
peace  and  happiness.  I  tokl  you  the  facts  just  as  they 
occurred,  so  far  as  tlie  knowledge  of  them  could  do 
either  of  us  any  good.  Yet  I  confess  that  there  were 
some  thincrs  connected  with  the  affair,  that  reflect  no 
blame  on  me,  which,  out  of  regard  to  your  feelings,  and 
pity  for  another,  I  did  not  think  it  best  to  reveal." 

"  Out  of  regard  to  me  !  "  he  exclaimed  passionately. 
"  Catharine,  you  can  know  nothing  of  a  husband's  feel- 
ings or  rights,  if  you  think  one  who  loves  as  I  do  will 
bear  such  concealments." 

"  I  think  I  do  know  what  they  ought  to  be  ;  and  won't 
you  trust  me  to  keep  from  you  a  knowledge  that  can 
only  wound  and  pain,  but  do  you  no  good  ?  " 

"  No :  I  must  know  the  truth,  at  whatever  cost  of 
feeling  to  myself" 

''  When  it  is  only  for  your  good,  and  the  honor  of 
your  family  alone,  that  I  would  be  silent  ?  " 

"  Yes  :  you  know  who  were  your  abductors,  and  would 
shield  them  from  my  anger." 

^^  No,  I  do  not." 

"  Who  employed  them  then  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Catharine,  after  a  pause.  "But  pray 
trust  me  in  this.  Gen.  Atherton.  If  our  marriage  had 
been  known,  it  would  never  have  occurred.  He  who 
did  this  thing,  knowing  nothing  of  our  secret  marriage, 
had  professed  to  love,  and  been  rejected  by  me.  Your 
last  letter  to  me  fell  by  accident  into  his  hands,  unfor- 
tuately.  Mistaking  its  ambiguous  language,  thinking 
you  wore  coming  to  marry ^  and  not  claim  one  already 
married,  and  maddened  by  disappointment,  he  procured 
my  abduction  to  get  me  out  of  your  way.  I  was  car- 
ried to  his  plantation,  miles  away,  where  he  followed, 


RELEASED.  263 

a  day  or  two  afterwards,  and  presented  himself  before 
me.  We  liad  a  deeply-exciting  interview,  during  which 
I  was  obliged  by  the  circumstances  to  reveal  to  him  the 
fact  of  our  marriage,  and  beg  of  him  to  leave  me.  He 
was  terribly  sliocked,  disappointed,  and  I  believe  penitent, 
when  he  found  out  the  truth.  I  had  taken  a  severe  cold 
in  my  night  journey.  I  was  already  very  ill ;  my  head 
was  bursting  with  pain  ;  and  this,  joined  to  the  excite- 
ment, made  me  alarmingly  wild,  and  out  of  my  head  be- 
fore the  interview  was  over.  I  was,  I  suppose,  very  near 
death  for  weeks  after  his  departure.  He  left  me  a  letter, 
becrsrins:  me  to  conceal  his  name,  and  thus  shield  him 
from  your  anger;  and  that  is  the  reason  I  have  tried 
to  do  so  thus  far,  —  not  from  any  love  of  him,  —  fori 
never  loved  him, — but  out  of  pity  for  both  him  and 
you.  If  you  demand  this  name  as  your  right,  I  yield  it 
at  your  bidding  ;  yet  I  solemnly  assure  you  that  it  will 
be  a  thousand  times  better  for  you  and  him  if  the 
words  should  never  be  spoken;  "  and  she  looked  up 
appealingly  into  the  dark,  passionate  eyes,  that  were 
sternly  searching  her  agitated  countenance. 

A  silence  of  several  minutes  fell  between  them  :  then 
he  said  in  a  low,  determined  tone,  — 

"Catharine,  I  shall  never  rest  easy  without  it :  I  would 
know  my  despoiler's  name." 

Catharine  paused  in  pity :  she  could  not  bear  to  in- 
flict upon  the  proud  father  a  blow  so  terrible,  —  the  death- 
blow of  a  father's  faith  in,  and  love  of,  an  only  and  be- 
loved son.  He  misconstrued  her  silence,  and  his  brow 
darkened,  as  he  said,  — 

"  Catharine,  must  I  demand  this  knowledge  as  my 
ricrht  ?     Tell  me  this  man's  name." 

^'It  is  Pliilip  Atherton, —  your  own  son,'^  she  fal- 
tered in  a  low,  tremulous,  pitying  tone. 


264      THE  KEBEL  GEXEKAL's  LOYAL  BELDE. 

The  proud  father's  face  grew  pale  as  ashes ;  and  he 
reeled,  as  if  she  had  struck  him  a  blow.  He  had  sus- 
pected many  others,  but  never  once,  strangely  enough, 
thought  of  Philip  in  connection  with  this  affair,  as  hav- 
ing dreamed  of  daring  to  rival  him ;  though  he  might 
long  before,  had  his  own  eyes  and  ears  been  disengaged. 

Catharine  pitied  him  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart, 
much  as  both  of  them  had  made  her  suffer ;  and,  with 
quick  sympathy,  she  turned  to  him,  and  said,  — 

*^  God  knows  I  would  have  saved  you  this  pain  if  I 
could.     You  do  not  doubt  me  still.  Gen.  Atherton  ?  " 

"  a!»5"o,  no :  but  oh,  my  son,  my  son  !  I  cannot  say 
as  David  did ;  but  I  can  feel  as  David  felt,"  he  exclaimed 
in  a  tone  of  deep  emotion. 

'^Absalom  was  blinded  by  one  mad  passion,  Philip 
by  another ;  but  you  must  pity  and  forgive  him,  even 
as  I  have  done,  who  am  the  greatest  sufferer." 

"  To  do  it  knowingly,  in  defiance  of  me  and  utter  dis- 
regard of  my  feelings,  —  such  a  mean,  dishonorable  act 
too  !     Oh,  I  never,  never  can  forgive  him  !  "  he  groaned. 

"  You  will  think  differently  some  day.  Philip  was 
blinded  by  passion  :  he  could  not  endure  the  thought 
of  my  becoming  his  father's  wife.  The  knowledge  that 
I  was  so  already  made  him  almost  wild.  You  know  his 
ardent,  impassioned  nature :  you  know  how  he  has 
been  petted  and  indulged  from  childhood.  Perhaps  you 
have  yourself  helped  to  make  him  disregardful  of  the 
feelings  of  others.  !N"o  doubt  he  deeply  regrets  the 
act  now,  and  suffers  all  the  horrors  of  disappointment 
and  remorse.  But  let  us  talk  of  something  else.  If  I 
am  to  die  in  this  horrible  prison,  or  on  the  gallows,  I 
want "  — 

"  0  Catharine  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  my  only  hope  and 


RELEASED.  265 

comfort  now,  you  shall  not  do  either,  if  I  have   to  teat 
down  tlie  prison-walls  with  my  own  hands." 

"But  you  know  why  I  am  here,  and  by  whose 
agency  ?  " 

"  Yes  :  my  sister  wrote  me  the  particulars.  She  did 
not  know  then,  however,  that  Kendall,  the  sutler  and 
spy,  who  operates  between  the  lines,  was  your  accuser." 

"  Tlien  it  is  just  as  I  suspected.  I  remember,  now, 
that  that  was  the  name  he  told  me  he  had  assumed." 

"  You  know  him  then  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  have  reason  to." 

"  Well,  I  came  home  the  first  moment  I  could  call  my 
own;  have  had  an  interview  with  the  authorities,  and 
been  trying  my  best  to  sift  out  the  truth." 

«  But  you  failed  ?  " 

"  Thus  far,  yes.  Your  accuser  is  gone,  but  is  ex- 
pected now  every  day.  I  fear  I  can  do  nothing  towards 
getting  you  liberated  until  he  comes,  as  the  proofs,  they 
say,  are  very  strong,  and  almost  incontrovertible." 

"  Then  I  shall  die  here,"  moaned  Catharine;  "for  the 
wretch  will  never  return.  He  told  me  as  much  when 
he  tried  to  get  me  to  go  home  with  him." 

"  To  go  home  with  him  !     Whom  do  you  mean  ?  " 

'•  AVhy,  don't  you  know  that  Kendall  and  that  scoun- 
drel Sweep  are  one  ?     He  told  me  so  himself." 

"  That  explains  it  all." 

"  Yes,  indeed.  It  all  comes  from  spite  on  his  part, 
without  doubt,  to  bo  revenged  on  me  for  disappointing 
him.  Yet  he  is  so  capable  of  mischief,  that  the  conse- 
quences may  be  very  serious.  But,  whatever  my  fate 
may  be,  your  Confederate  authorities  may  assure  them- 
selves of  one  thing,  —  that  he  has  been  playing  a  double 
23 


266      THE   REBEL   GENERAL's   LOYAL   BRIDE. 

game  with  them,  and  dares  not  return  again  to  Eich- 
mond." 

"  I  feared  it,  and  told  them  so ;  but  they  would  not 
believe  it.  And  he  could  do  us  a  great  deal  of  harm 
just  now,  with  the  enemy  so  near  us." 

"How  near?" 

"  Why,  did  you  not  know  that  the  Federal  army, 
more  than  two  hundred  thousand  strong,  are  within 
twelve  miles  of  Richmond  ?  or  that  there  has  been  a 
great  fright  and  panic  in  the  city,  and  that  everybody 
that  could  get  away  has  left  it  ?  " 

"  I  only  know  that  I  have  heard  unusual  noise  and 
confusion  in  the  streets,  and  longed  most  earnestly  to 
get  out,  and  fly  away.  And  I  warn  3'ou  now.  Gen. 
Atherton,  that,  if  in  this  great  march  of  events,  I  should 
have  a  chance  to  do  so,  you  must  consider  yourself  con- 
sulted, if  I  prefer  escape  to  an  ignominious  death." 

'•'  You  pain  me  deeply  by  such  allusions.  After  such 
bitter  disappointment  in  both  my  children,  I  shall  live 
only  in  the  hope  of  one  day  claiming  and  proclaiming 
you  as  my  wife." 

"  Then  you  have  not  done  so  yet  ?  " 

"  No,  I  judged  it  to  be  inexpedient.  As  your  hus- 
band, my  hands  and  tongue  would  be  tied,  so  far  as 
assisting  you  would  be  concerned.  As  a  friend,  I  could 
work  for  you,  without  embarrassment,  and  defend  you 
before  any  court  of  inquiry  in  the  realm ;  yet  I  must  tell 
you  honestly,  my  dear  Catharine,  that,  if  this  man  comes 
back  to  substantiate  his  charges  against  you,  and  brings 
all  the  proof  to  which  he  claimed  to  have  access,  the  case 
will  look  very  dark,  and  will  not  be  an  easy  one  to  de- 
fend. But  for  Philip's  implication,  the  facts  of  your  ab- 
duction and  illness  could  be  brought  forward  as  rebut- 


RELEASED.  267 

ting  evidence.  But  as  slaves  cannot  testify,  and  no  one 
else  but  Philip  and  his  tools  knew  any  thing  about  it, 
they  alone  could  save  you  by  disgracing  themselves,  and 
you,  too,  perhaps,by  implication,  if  not  in  fact,  — a  thing 
that  must  not  be  risked,  except  in  the  last  extremitj', 
and  hardly  then.  So  you  see,  my  dear,  the  difficulties 
of  your  position  ;  tliough  you  cannot  feel,  as  I  do,  a  deep 
grief  and  regret  for  being,  even  remotely,  the  cause  of 
it.  If  it  is  in  the  power  of  man  to  save  you,  it  shall  be 
done,  you  may  rest  assured ;  yet  nothing  can  be  done 
while  the  city  is  in  such  fearful  peril,  beleaguered  by  a 
hostile  foe.  I  myself,  with  thousands  of  others,  have 
just  been  recalled  from  a  distant  station,  and  must  go 
to  the  front  to-morrow,  with  a  heart  heavy,  not  only 
with  my  own  private  griefs,  but  the  woes  of  my  country. 
I  cannot  bear  to  leave  you  in  this  loathsome  cell ;  but 
I  suppose  it  cannot  be  helped.  The  crime  of  which  you 
are  accused  precludes  the  idea  of  relief  or  amelioration, 
as  well  as  the  fact  that  I  do  not  stand  well  enough  with 
the  authorities  at  the  present  time  to  gain  many  favors, 
especially  personal  ones." 

"  Why  so  ?  " 

"Catharine,"  and  he  spoke  in  a  low,  concentrated 
tone,  as  if  the  walls  had  ears,  "^our  President  has 
disappointed  the  expectations  of  all  his  best  friends. 
He  is  a  vain,  wilful,  obstinate,  conceited  fool,  who  will 
listen  to  no  sensible  man's  advice.  He  is  notoriously 
ruled  by  his  wife,  who  sees  in  every  prominent  and 
ambitious  man  a  rival  of  her  husband.  So  she  endeav- 
ors to  wield  all  the  influence  at  her  command  in  keep- 
ing such  men  in  subordinate  positions,  where  there  will 
be  no  chance  for  the  display  of  brilliant  talents,  if  they 
possess  them,  or  danger  of  their  attracting  the  attention 


268      THE  EEBEL  GENEEAL's   LOYAL  BRmE. 

of  the  people  to  the  prejudice  of  her  husband.'  1  have 
seen  and  felt  this  for  months  ;  and  so  have  Beauregard, 
Johnston,  and  Lee,  in  turn :  and  we  fear,  not  without 
reason,  that  it  will  be  the  cause  of  the  downfall  of  the 
Confederacy.  But  none  of  us  can  help  ourselves  so  long 
as  Jefferson  Davis  stands  at  the  helm,  with  all  the 
mighty  power  and  patronage  of  the  government  in  his 
hands.  As  my  wife,  I  tell  you  this  in  confidence,  know- 
ing that  3"ou  are  too  honorable  to  betray  the  trust,  and 
that  you  may  know  with  how  many  kinds  of  trouble  I 
have  to  contend." 

^'I  have  felt  from  the  first  that  you  were  trj'ing  a 
dangerous,  a  fearful  experiment,  that  j^ou  will  rue  to 
the  last  day  of  your  lives." 

"It  may  be  so.  I  confess,  that*thus  far  it  has  not 
answered  our  expectations.  But  we  cannot,  after  ac- 
cepting the  gage  of  battle,  retreat  from  it  without  dis- 
honor." 

"I  believe  you  are  mistaken.  I  know  both  parties 
are  sick  of  this  fuatrimdal  warfare.  Blood  enough  has 
been  shed,  and  treasure  wasted.  All  that  is  wanted  are 
a  few  concessions  to  secure  an  honorable  peace." 

^'  Catharine,  once  for  all,  we  will  never,  never  consent 
to  the  only  concession  that  would  content  your  Northern 
people  now,  —  the  utter  abolition  and  extinction  of  sla- 
very. It  may  come  to  that  at  last :  they  may  set  our 
own  slaves  to  cut  our  throats,  and  desolate  our  homes. 
But  never,  while  we  have  blood  to  shed,  or  strength  to 
fight,  will  we  consent  to  be  thus  ground  into  the  dust  by 
the  ironshod  heel  of  Federal  power." 

At  this  moment  footsteps  were  heard  approaching 
along  the  gallery  outside,  a  knock  was  heard  at  the 
door,  and  "Time's  up,"  in  a  gruff  voice,  rang  through 
the  stilly  air. 


KELEASED.  209 

"Catharine,  that  summons  is  imperative,"  he  said 
with  a  deep  sigh.  "I  go  to-morrow  to  defend  my  coun- 
try against  her  invaders,  subject  to  all  the  chances  of 
defeat,  death,  or  victory.  But  before  I  go  I  shall  malvO 
such  provision  for  you,  as  my  wife,  as  shall  not  only  in- 
sure you  against  want,  but  also  reveal  to  the  world  your 
true  position  with  regard  to  me.  If  I  fall,"  he  continued 
gloomily,  "you  will  perhaps  rejoice  in  the  chance"  — 

"Ko,  Gen.  Atherton.  Whatever  comes  to  me  of  joy 
or  woe,  I  would  that  not  another  life  should  be  sacrificed 
in  this  unholy  contest." 

The  rap  came  again,  still  more  imperative;  and,  with 
a  passionate  caress  and  mournful  "Farewell!"  he  turned 
and  left  the  apartment. 

By  his  influence  a  few  needed  comforts  were  added  to 
her  desolate  cell ;  and  then  Catharine  returned  to  her 
old  round  of  darkness  and  silence  by  night,  and  sepul- 
chral light  by  diiy;  interrupted  only  by  the  gruff  visits 
of  the  jailer,  the  voices  and  tramp  of  the  sentinels,  and 
the  indistinct  noises  of  the  busy  streets,  yet  with  feel- 
inors  a  little  more  cheerful  for  Gen.  Atherton's  visit. 
She  felt  that  she  had  one  friend  left  to  think  of  and  care 
for  her,  if  he  was  a  selfish  one  :  she  was  not  forgotten 
by  the  whole  world.  If  he  lived,  she  would  have-  an 
able  defender.  Yet  the  price  she  must  pay  for  it  made 
her  sometimes  doubt  v/hether  it  would  not  be  better  to 
die  than  live  to  endure  a  loveless  marriage.  Several 
days  passed  away;  and  the  feeling  of  nervousness  and 
discontent  was  again  getting  the  mastery,  when  the 
jailer  one  afternoon  presented  himself,  bowing  with  a 
politeness  altogether  at  variance  with  his  previous  brutal 
conduct. 

*  Madam,"  he  said  in  a  very  plausible  tone,   "  I  am 
23* 


270      THE  REBEL  GE]ST:IIAl's  LOYAL  BRmE. 

very  liappy  to  inform  you  tliat  the  charges  against  you 
liave  been  withdrawn ;  and  I  have  orders  from  tlie 
authorities  for  your  release  from  prison.  A  carriage 
will  be  at  the  door  in  half  an  hour,  that  will  take  you  to 
any  part  of  the  city  you  desire." 

He  left  the  room  before  Catharine  had  sufficiently 
recovered  from  her  astonishment  to  reply  or  question. 
Then  she  impulsively  knelt  down,  and  offered  heartfelt 
thanksgiving  to  a  kind  heavenly  Fatlier  for  this  unex- 
pected deliverance. 

Poor  girl !  She  thought  her  troubles  were  over,  when, 
in  fact,  they  had  but  just  begun.  She  gathered  up  her 
few  articles  of  apparel,  put  them  into  her  satchel ;  and, 
when  Major  Turner  appeared,  she  descended  witli  him 
to  the  street.  Pie  helped  her  into  the  carriage ;  and,  at 
her  request,  ordered  the  coachman  to  take  her  to  Mrs. 
Hunter's.  They  arrived  at  last ;  and,  driving  up  to  the 
gate,  the  man  helped  Catharine  out,  satchel  in  hand; 
jumped  up  to  his  seat  again,  and  was  whirled  away. 
Imagining  her  reception,  and  the  joy  of  the  family  at 
her  return,  she  walked  up  to  the  front  entrance,  and 
rung  the  bell.  But  she  waited  in  vain  for  Caesar  to 
answer  the  summons.  She  rang  again  repeatedly,  but 
with  like  results.  Filled  with  gloomy  forebodings,  she 
next  went  around  the  house,  and  tried  the  side  and  rear 
entrances,  but  found  them  all  locked  against  her.  She 
remembered  now,  for  the  first  time,  what  Gen.  Atherton 
had  told  her  in  the  prison,  —  that  everybody  had  left  Rich- 
mond who  had  anywhere  to  go  to;  and  that  she  had  for- 
gotten in  her  surprise  and  excitement  to  inquire  after 
Mrs.  Hunter  and  her  family.  Here  was  a  dilemma  she 
had  not  dreamed  of;  and  another  still  worse  soon  pre- 
sented itself.     She  had  not  a  cent  of  money  in  her  pos- 


RELEASED.  271 

session  to  procure  a  hack,  or  hire  a  lodging.  She  had 
taken  none  with  her  to  the  prison,  thinking  it  needless ; 
and  Gen.  Atherton,  never  dreaming  of  her  enlargement 
before  his  return,  had  not  once  thouglit  of  making  such 
provision  for  her.  Overcome  now  by  the  thought  of  her 
misery  and  friendlessness,  she  sat  down  on  the  steps, 
and  burst  into  tears.  "Where  in  the  world  should  she 
go,  or  what  could  she  do  ?  "  were  the  questions  she  asked 
herself. 

There  were  near  neighbors,  it  was  true;  but  ^hey 
were  rich,  proud,  and  aristocratic,  and  had  some  of  them 
treated  her  so  superciliously,  that  she  could  not  bring 
herself  to  ask  of  them  a  favor. 

At  last  she  thouglit  of  Mrs.  Gordon,  who,  she  believed, 
was  a  true  friend  to  her ;  and  to  her  she  resolved  to  go 
for  a  refuge.  She  raised  her  bowed  head  as  she  came  to 
this  conclusion,  and  there,  standing  but  a  few  feet  from 
her,  was  an  old  negro  man  she  remembered  to  have  seen 
in  the  neighborhood  regarding  her  with  eyes  full  of  pity 
and  compassion. 

"  Massa  ober  dere  to  de  big  house  see  miss  get  out  o' 
de  carriage,  an'  t'ink  she  dunno  Missy  Hunter  an'  all  de 
folks  here  gone  off  to  Nort'  Cariiny  wid  Missy  Davis, 
an'  lots  o'  ladies  an'  chillens  from  Shockoe  Hill." 

"  I  did  not  indeed.     But  is  your  mistress  gone  too  ?  " 

"  Yes :  do  wimin  folks  all  gone.  King  an'  Pinky 
stay  to  keep  house  for  ole  massa.  All  de  ladies  in  dese 
housen  gone  somewhere.  All  de  young  massas  gone  to 
fight." 

"Indeed!  Then  'there  is  no  chance  to  get  in  here. 
But  do  you  know  Mrs.  James  Gordon  of Street  ?  " 

"'  I  guess  King  dunno  him.     But  dat  a  long  way  off.'* 

"  I  know  it.     But  I  don't  know  where  else  to  go." 


272      THE  EEBEL   GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"  Terrible  times,  miss.  Eberybody  gone  crazy  coz  da 
Jubilee's  comiu'." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  '' 

"  King  no  doubt  on't.  De  spirit  o'  de  Lord  tell  him. 
But  he  no  sich  fool  as  to  run  off  inter  de  swamp,  when 
he  got  good  enuf  massa  to  home.  He  stay  till  it  come 
right  along." 

''You  are  right  there,  unless  you  want  to  go  and  help 
fight  for  your  liberty  and  that  of  your  race." 

"  Time  *nuff  for  dat  when  de  big  Linkum  army  come 
long.  King  t'ink  dey  come  right  away.  De  streets  full 
o'  sogers  from  eberywhere ;  an,  dere's  goin'  to  be  terrible 
times  rite  off." 

"  Well,"  sighed  Catharine,  ''  I  suppose  it  is  so  ;  and  I 
must  go  and  try  to  find  a  place  to  stay  until  Mrs. 
Hunter  comes  home." 

The  negro  hesitated  a  moment,  then  said,  — 

'•'  Does  miss  know  dat  de  streets  pretty  dangerous  for 
wimin  folks  jes'  now?  Pretty  miss  got  no  veil  on, 
an'  de  men  stare ;  an'  some  on  'em  t'ink  de  Yankee  spy 
got  loose." 

Catharine  started.  He  knew  her,  then,  —  her  accusa- 
tion, and  where  she  came  from,  —  a,nd  so  would  others. 
So  the  tears  came  again  to  her  eyes  as  she  said,  — 

"I  have  indeed  been  accused,  but  wrongfully.  I  have 
been  in  prison,  but  have  been  honorably  liberated  by 
the  authorities.  My  veil  must  have  been  left  in  the 
prison." 

"  King  spects  so,  an'  wish  he  dare  help  miss  a  good 
deal.  But  old  massa  up  dere  to  de  winder  watchin'. 
He  hate  de  Yankees,  an'  no  let  him.  But  if  miss  no 
find  a  place,  an'  come  back  here  to-night,  he  t'ink  he 
an'  Pinky  hide  her  somewhere  for  all  massa.'^ 


RELEASED.  273 

"  Thank  you,  my  friend.  I  will  do  s ),  but  hope  I 
may  find  friends  elsewhere." 

"  King  hope  so  tu.  an'  wish  miss  good  lucli:  an'  good- 
by,"  he  returned,  and  then  hobbled  off  to  report  to 
his  master,  who  was  keenly  observing  every  movement 
from  his  chamber-window. 


CHAPTER  Xy. 

NO    HOME. AGAIX   IX   BOXDS. 

.ITH  a  praj^er  for  help  in  her  heart,  Catharine 
took  up  her  satchel,  and  marched  out  into 
the  crowded  streets  in  the  direction  of  Mrs. 
Gordon's.  They  were  indeed  crowded  with 
soldiery  and  citizens  ;  and  long  trains  of  amhulances 
and  armj^-wagons,  ftdl  of  stragglers  and  camp-followers 
of  every  description,  were  rolling  on  towards  the  hattle- 
fields  outside  of  Kichmond.  But  there  was  scarcely  a 
white  female  to  he  seen  in  the  streets ;  and,  terrified  at 
the  thought  of  her  unprotected  situation,  she  glided 
along  with  hasty  but  silent  footfalls,  trying  to  attract  as 
little  attention  as  possible. 

But  with  such  a  face  and  figure  as  hers,  in  its  nice- 
fitting  brown  suit  and  jaunty  hat,  it  was  impossible  to 
escape  observation;  and  many  were  the  admiring  glances 
that  followed  her  retreating  footsteps.  When,  after  a 
long  and  tiresome  valk,  she  arrived  at  Gordon  house,  it 
was  but  to  ring  repeatedly,  but  in  vain,  for  admittance. 
The  house  was  closed ;  and  the  family,  she  was  told,  had 
left  the  citj.  She  turned  away  in  tears,  uncertain 
where  to  go  next.  At  last  she  thought  of  two  families 
on  the  same  street,  who  had  always  been  very  intimate 
at  Hunter  House,  and  always  treated  her  politely,  upon 
whom  she  resolved  to  call  and  ask  for  a  shelter. 
274 


NO  HOSIE.  275 

Upon  application  to  the  first,  she  was  ushered  into  the 
parlor,  but  received  with  freezing  coldness  by  the  mis- 
tress ;  and,  when  she  told  her  story  in  tremulous  tones, 
and  asked  for  refuge  and  protection,  the  lady  told  her 
she  would  harbor  no  one  who  was  under  suspicion  as  a 
Yankee  spy.  When  she  attempted  to  expostulate  and 
plead  her  cause,  she  was,  without  ceremonj^,  turned  into 
the  street.  Auger  dried  the  tears  upon  her  cheek ;  for 
tliis  lady,  who  was  a  widow,  in  a  dangerous  illness  a  few 
months  previous,  had  been  under  great  obligation  to  her 
for  watching  and  kindly  care,  as  well  as  to  Mrs.  Hunter; 
and  she  had  also  been  a  candidate  for  the  favor  of  Gen. 
Atherton. 

At  the  next  place,  though  she  saw  the  lady  plainly 
through  the  window,  she  was  peremptorily  denied  admit- 
tance by  the  well-instructed  servant  in  waiting.  Prob- 
ably the  fear  of  being  themselves  suspected  in  some  meas- 
lu'e  influenced  the  decisions  of  these  ladies  regarding 
her.  Overwhelmed  now  by  despair,  she  wandered  on, 
applying  in  vain  at  every  liouse  where  she  knew  the 
owners  for  slielter  and  protection. 

The  sun  had  set ;  and,  as  it  grew  dusk,  she  was  jostled 
"by  the  rude  throng  that  filled  the  street,  some  of  whom 
impudently  peered  in  her  face,  and  spoke  to  her  in  a  way 
that  increased  her  fears,  and  made  her  tremble  for  her 
safety. 

She  thought  at  last  of  an  old  colored  woman,  who, 
being  free,  owned  a  little  house  in  the  suburbs,  and  took 
in  washing,  who,  she  felt  sure,  would  receive  her  if  she 
could  only  find  the  place.  She  was  one  of  Aunt  Dinah's 
particular  friends,  who  often  came  to  visit  her ;  and  she 
knew  her  to  be  a  respectable  woman.  She  had  been 
there  with  Dinah  and  the  children  once  or  twice,  but 


276      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRmE. 

always  in  the  carriage  with  a  driver.  So,  not  being 
quite  sure  of  tlie  way,  she  soon  got  bewildered  in  the 
growing  darkness,  and,  in  the  labyrinth  of  streets  that 
were  new  and  strange  to  her,  was  completely  lost.  She 
made  several  inquiries,  but  no  one  she  asked  knew  such 
a  woman  as  Mrs.  Milly  Conly. 

At  last  slie  was  overtaken  by  a  tall,  gaunt,  unhappy- 
looking  woman  in  tawdry  apparel,  who  professed  to 
know  Mrs.  Conly  well.  She  said  that  if  she  would  go 
home  with  her  and  spend  the  night,  she  would  be  per- 
fectly welcome.  If  she  preferred  going  to  Mrs.  Conly's, 
she  would  show  her  the  way,  after  getting  her  supper, 
and  making  a  few  home  arrangements,  as  they  lived  in 
the  same  neighborliood.  The  manners  and  appearance 
of  the  woman  were  such  as  to  excite  poor  Catliarine's 
suspicions ;  but  what  could  she  do  in  her  desperate  cir- 
cumstances but  accept  the  offered  hospitality  and  kind- 
ness ?  They  soon  turned  off  from  the  travelled  street 
into  a  long  lane,  that  led  to  an  old,  dilapidated  mansion, 
where  the  woman  said  she  resided.  It  was  quite  dark 
when  they  entered  the  house ;  but  the  woman  struck  a 
light,  kindled  a  fire,  and  soon  had  a  comfortable  meal  to 
set  before  her  suspicious  and  watchful  guest. 

Just  as  they  were  rising  from  the  table,  the  rolling  of 
wheels  was  heard  without  j  and  the  woman  exclaimed  in 
evident  alarm,  — 

"There,  he  is  coming  !  I  thought  he  would  be  away 
to-night.  I  cannot  go  with  you  ;  but  go  somewhere, 
—  if  3'ou  would  be  safe ;  for  he  is  a  "  — 

'•Where,  oh!  where  can  I  go?''  said  Catharine  in 
tremulous  tones,  as  she  seized  her  hat,  and  ran  towards 
the  door. 

"Not  there!   you  are  too  late:    I  hear  his  step    on 


AGAIN  IN  BONDS.  277 

the  gravel,"  the  woman  exclaimed  in  a  frightened  tone. 
"  Here,  take  this  light,  and  run  up  stairs  to  the  little 
room  at  the  end  of  the  hall  ; "  and  she  lit  and  gave  her 
an  extra  candle.  "  Blow  out  the  light  as  soon  as  you 
find  the  room,  and  keep  still  as  death." 

Not  knowing  what  else  to  do,  Catharine  obeyed ;  for 
she  felt  sure,  that,  whatever  the  character  of  the  woman 
might  be,  she  was  trying  to  shield  her  from  some  great 
danger. 

She  cast  her  eyes  hastily''  around  the  desolate  room, 
saw  that  it  was  impossible  to  fasten  it  from  within,  extin- 
guished the  light,  and  sat  down  upon  the  humble  bed, 
trembling  in  every  limb.  Immediately  afterwards  she 
heard  the  heavy  tramp  of  feet  entering  the  house,  the 
slamming  of  doors,  and  then  the  sound  of  angry,  high- 
pitched  voices  in  eager  and  excited  conversation. 

There  was  something  in  the  gruff  tones  of  one  of  them 
that  made  her  shiver  with  renewed  terror ;  for,  as  she 
listened  intently,  she  grew  surer  every  moment  that  it 
was  the  voice  of  the  murderous  Blondel.  The  voices 
lowered  at  last  to  a  calmer  tone,  and  then  there  was  the 
rattle  and  clink  of  dishes  and-  domestic  utensils,  as  if 
supper  was  prepared,  and  devoured  by  the  new  comer, 
or  comers. 

And,  while  it  was  being  partaken  of  evidently,  Cath- 
arine's heart  stood  still,  as  she  heard  stealthy  footsteps 
ascending  the  stairs,  and  approaching  the  door  of  her 
room  —  in  the  darkness. 

There  was  a  fumbling  for  the  latch,  —  the  entrance, 
turning,  and  click  of  a  key  in  the  lock,  —  the  retreating 
of  the  stealthy  footsteps  down  the  stairs ;  and  she  knew 
that  she  was  a  prisoner,  —  probably  in  a  den  of  infamy. 

To  describe  her  feelings  would  be  impossible.    She  was 

24 


278      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

sure  it  was  the  woman's  step  she  had  heard.  It  might  be 
that  she  had  locked  her  in  to  save  her  from  great  dan- 
ger. This  thought  was  her  only  consolation.  After 
a  wliile,  there  w^as  again  loud  talking,  and  tramping  in 
and  around  the  house,  the  sound  of  a  wagon  going  down 
the  lane  towards  the  city  ;  and  then  all  was  still. 

That  night  a  terrific  thunder-storm  swept  over  the 
city  and  country,  fitly  symbolizing  the  era  of  horror  the 
morrow  was  to  usher  in.  The  rain  fell  in  torrents  ;  the 
wind  whistled  around  the  tall  chimneys;  the  lightning 
darted  and  blazed,  until  the  heavens  seemed  lit  up  by 
a  grand  and  terrible  illumination  ;  the  thunder  rolled 
overhead,  as  if  all  the  artillery  of  heaven  were  beginning 
the  murderous  roar  that  was  to  be  echoed  and  repeated 
during  the  succeeding  memorable  days.  To  Catharine, 
locked  in  that  desolate  room,  it  was  a  night  of  unmin- 
gled  horrors. 

But  we  must  pause  here  to  explain  how,  under  the 
w^eight  of  such  fearful  accusations,  Catharine  came  to  be 
released  by  the  autliorities  from  the  Libby  Prison.  For 
several  days  they  had  been  looking  anxiously  for  the 
return  of  Kendall,  with  some  special  news  he  had  prom- 
ised to  bring  them  from  Washington,  regarding  the 
peace  views  of  the  Federal  Government,  and  the  move- 
ments of  the  Union  armies.  They  felt  as  if  a  great 
deal  depended  upon  this  news,  which  they  could  obtain 
in  no  other  way. 

It  must  be  remembered,  that,  for  several  months,  they 
had  had  nothing  but  a  continued  succession  of  reverses, 
losses,  and  defeats  ;  and  the  imminence  of  the  impend- 
ing danger  made  them  all  the  more  anxious  to  obtain 
this  news  before  fighting  seriously  commenced  with 
McClellan's  dreaded  army. 


AGAIN  IN   BONDS.  279 

They  were  talking  of  this  one  day  in  a  cabinet  coun- 
cil, when  a  letter  was  brought  in,  addressed  to  ^'Presi- 
dent Davis  and  the  Authorities  of  the  Confederate 
States.''  It  was  known  to  have  come  from  a  perfectly 
reliable  source ;  an<l,  having  been  ordered  to  be  read  by 
one  of  the  secretaries,  was  found  to  be  as  follows :  — 

Washington,  May  27,  1862. 

My  deke  Feexds,  —  Having  concloodcd  that  it 
wouldn't  be  for  my  helth  to  cum  back  to  Kichmond  jest 
now,  I  thort  I'd  rite,  and  let  you  no  how  matters  stand. 
I  got  back  to  Washintun  safe  an'  sound,  an'  found  'em 
all  tickled  to  deth  to  see  me ;  especially  Jotham  an'  his 
wife,  who  is  fat  an'  flourishin',  an' dresses  as  fine  as  a  pea- 
cock. He's  makin'  a  siglit  of  money  contractin' ;  which, 
up  here,  means,  in  perlite  circles,  patriotically  and  gratooi- 
tusly,  furnishin'  things  for  the  grand  army  of  the  Union, 
but,  in  common  langwidge,  cheatin'  Uncle  Sam.  I  think 
of  goin'  into  it  myself,  it's  so  mity  fashinable  ;  and  then 
I  can  have  a  grand  house,  a  gilt  carridge,  a  hansum 
wife,  an'  fat  bosses,  like  the  rest  on  'em. 

To-day  I  called  on  the  Secretary  of  War  an'  Presi- 
dent Lincon ;  an'  they  was  both  mity  glad  to  see  me. 
Miss  Lincon  smiled  on  me  as  sweet  as  molasses,  and  little 
Tad  cum  an'  set  on  my  nee  to  get  the  candy  an'  jack- 
nife  I  carried  him.  But  that  was  on'y  a  little  by-play, 
3^ou  onderstand :  tho'  I  du  think  little  Tad  a  dreadful 
interestin'  child ;  an'  I  told  his  father  so.  He  laifed, 
an'  axed  me  if  Miss  Jeff.  Davis  had  any  ekal  tu  him. 
I  said  yes,  her  3'oung  ones  was  jest  as  keen  and  cute  as 
if  they  was  Yankees.  But  we  talked  most  of  the  time 
about  war  an'  pollyticks.  He's  expectin',  I  see,  to  hear 
every  day,  that  Maclellan  has  whipped  the  South  within 


280      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

au'  incli  of  her  life,  laid  Eiclimond  in  ashes,  and  hung 
you  leaders  all  up  to  the  lamp-posts.  At  that,  I  told 
him  I  gessed  he'd  got  a  leetle  tu  fast  in  his  kalculations ; 
for  3^ou'd  got  surcum volutions  an'  parryhellograms  an' 
ridouts,  and  all  sorts  of  fortjfycations,  piled  sky-high 
around  Eiclimond,  full  ekal  to  the  walls  of  Babjdon. 

I  told  him,  tu,  that  you'd  got  an  army  there,  that  I 
should  judge,  by  the  looks  on't,  would  count  nigh  upon 
a  million,  with  several  generals  quite  ekal  to  the  great 
Napoleon ;  and  that  you'd  (in  my  private  opinion)  be 
quite  as  likely  tu  send  Jackson  to  whip  'round  Banks 
and  Shields,  and  take  Washintun,  as  Maclellan  was  tu 
take  the  Confederate  capitul. 

He  kinder  looked  scairt  at  that,  you  may  depend,  an' 
immegiately  sent  out  orders  for  the  guards  to  keep  a 
sharp  lookout,  and  be  ready  for  3'e. 

By  the  best  I  can  find  out,  I  reckon  Maclellan  ain't 
got  more'n  five  hundred  thousand  men  before  E-ichmond; 
so  I  gess  3"ou'll  get  along  well  enuf  if  I  don't  cum  back. 

But  I  like  ter  forgot  the  main  thing  I  wanted  to  tell 
ye  ;  an'  that's  about  the  gal  I  got  ye  to  put  in  the  Libby 
for  me,  jest  afore  I  cum  away  from  Bichmond.  The  fact 
is,  the  critter  was  as  innercent  as  a  lam  on  all  them  charges 
I  brought  agin  her ;  and  I  don't  mind  tellin'  ye  on't, 
now  I've  got  away,  safe  an'  sound.  You  see,  she'd  riled 
me  up  like  fury,  an'  I  got  so  tarnal  mad  and  spiteful, 
that  I  thort  I'd  cum  up  with  her  somehow.  To  tell  ye 
the  exact  truth  about  it,  we  both  used  to  live  out  to  old 
Major  Hunter's  at  Hunter  Hills,  —  she  as  governess  an' 
I  as  overseer ;  an'  I  got  plagily  streaked  with  her. 
Wall,  she  was  mity  toppin'  an'  top-lofty  at  first,  an' 
would  hardly  speak  tu  a  feller,  till  arter  Master  Loyd 
courted  an'  left  her ;  an'  I  couldn't  get  acquainted  nohow. 


AGAIN  IN  BONDS.  281 

But  wlien  she  cum  back  from  Richmond  to  take  care  of 
the  old  major  ('cause  his  wife  wouldn't),  you  see,  she  was 
kinder  alone,  an'  we  all  eat  together,  and  she  was  kinder 
plausible.  But  jest  as  quick  as  I  offered  tu  have  her, 
she  turned  up  her  nose  an'  cut  my  head  over  an'  over. 
Now,  you  know  that  don't  feel  good;  but  I  didn't  pretend 
to  mind  it.  I  wa'n't  goin'  tu  kick  over  my  stew  in  that 
way;  so  I  held  on  as  perlite  as  could  be.  At  last  I  hap- 
pened to  think  that  I'd  forgot  to  tell  her  about  the  twenty 
thousand  dollars  I'd  got  banked  up  at  the  North;  and 
then  I  thort  I'd  got  her  sure.  But — would  you  bleve  it? 
—  jest  as  quick  as  I  told  her  that,  an'  said  we  could  go 
up  North  an'  cut  a  big  swell  with  our  money,  the  sassy 
critter  up  an'  told  me  that  "  no  amount  of  gold  would 
indooce  her  to  wed  a  Yankee  slave-driver."  That,  I  tell 
ye,  raised  my  dander.  "  You  were  ready  enough  to  wed 
a  slave-owner,"  says  I,  "  and  where's  the  difference  ? " 
"All  the  difference  in  the  world,"  says  Miss  Imperdence. 
"  For  a  man  who  inherits  slaves  from  past  generations, 
to  many  of  whom  he  is  strongly  attatched,  I  can  have 
some  sympethy ;  but  for  one,  with  a  Northern  edication 
an'  decent  abilities,  to  cum  down  here  to  be  a  slave- 
driver,  I  have  none  at  all."  Now  wa'n't  that  aggra- 
vatin'  ?  and  there  was  considerable  more  of  the  same 
sort  of  thing  tu. 

Wall,  that  onfortynite  affair  at  the  major's  pervented 
my  persuin'  the  business  ;  and  I  lost  her  that  time ;  tho' 
I  may  as  well  confess,  while  I'm  about  it,  that  she  had 
me  dragged  away  from  the  fire,  and  saved  my  life  when 
everybody  else  turned  agin  me,  an'  was  reddy  to  give  me 
a  kick.  Wall,  I  jest  got  out  of  that  affair  by  the  skin 
of  my  teeth ;  an'  that  was  about  all  the  skin  I  had  left, 
I  was  so  singed.     But,  like  a  singed  cat,  I  cum  out  pretty 

24* 


282      THE  EEBEL  GENERAl's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

slick  arter  all.  I  saved  all  my  money.  I'd  allers  hated 
my  name,  an'  my  red  an'  yaller  head-fixins  ;  so,  now  that 
my  hair  was  all  singed  off,  I  had  a  chance  to  change  to  a 
much  more  desirable  color  for  both.  I  was  mity  tickled 
at  that ;  an'  it  gin  me  a  much  better  chance  in  this  agency 
bisness,  in  which  I've  had  the  honor  to  sarve  your  lord- 
ships of  the  Confederate  States,  as  I  think,  with  immense 
satisfaction  to  both  parties.  Wall,  you  see,  on  this  last  lit- 
tle excursion  to  Kichmond,  I  cum  across  this  gal  agin,  as 
cute,  imperdent,  and  sassy  as  ever ;  an',  finding  her  as 
top-lofty,  I  thort  I'd  cum  up  with  her  nicely  :  so  I  got 
a  feller  to  help  me  for  a  dollar,  and  we  gin  the  nigs  lod- 
num,  an'  nabbed  her  in  her  sleep,  an'  brought  her  on  to 
Richmond  in  my  big  wagon,  without  the  guards  noin' 
any  thing  about  it.  But  the  devil  was  in  it,  tu  purvent 
my  gittin'  her,  arter  all.  M}^  wagon  got  smashed  up,  an' 
the  gal  spilt  out,  an'  Loj'd  Hunter,  her  old  spark,  cum 
along,  as  Satan  would  have  it,  and  carted  her  off,  in  spite 
of  me,  to  his  mother's.  I  never  was  so  mad  an'  disap- 
pinted  in  my  life.  An'  when  I  read  a  letter  I  found  in 
her  room  when  we  nabbed  her,  I  fairly  biled  over  with 
righteous  indignation.  I  found  out  then,  that  I'd  got 
awfully  cheated  and  took  in ;  for,  as  sure  as  you  live,  the 
critter  had  been  an'  got  slyly  married  to  one  of  your 
darned  old  rebel  generals,  and  was  really  another  man's 
wife.  Another  feller,  it  seemed,  had  carted  her  off,  she 
s'posed,  to  get  her  out  of  his  way ;  and  this  was  a  letter 
she'd  rit  to  her  husban',  and  never  sent.  I  put  it  in  my 
pocket,  but  forgot  to  read  it  till  arter  it  was  all  over. 
"Wall,  I  felt  terribly  imposed  upon  ;  an',  thinkin'  I'd  cum 
up  with  her,  I  went  tu  work  pretty  soon  to  try  an'  copy 
her  ritin',  an'  finally  manyfacturd  them  dockyments  I 
bad  the  honor  tu  present  tu  you.     You'U  find  copys  of 


Q 


AGADT  IN  BONDS.  28-: 

'era,  in  tlie  N.  E.  corccr  of  the  cupboard  of  my  room,  at 
the  tavern  where  I  staid,  that  I  forgot  to  burn  when  I 
cum  away,  if  nobody  hasn't  moved  'em. 

I  felt  dreadful  tickled  when  I  got  her  shet  up  in  that 
nasty  prison,  an'  cum  away  mity  triumphant.  But  it 
didn't  last  long ;  for  I'm  naterally  di-eadful  soft-shelled 
and  tender-hearted  towards  the  femenine  sect:  an'  I 
begun  tu  think  pretty  soon,  that  'twas  tu  bad  to  treat 
the  gal  so  arter  she'd  saved  my  life,  even  if  she  was 
sassy ;  an'  that  she'd  jest  as  good  a  rite  tu  git  rich  by 
matrimony  as  I  had  in  this  agency  business.  Then  I 
was  alwus  a  dreadful  consiencious  man,  an'  Orthodox 
as  fury  when  I'm  to  home ;  an'  I  thort  if  I  should  want 
tu  set  up  for  deacon  or  squire,  or  tu  go  tu  Congress, 
when  the  war's  over,  an'  this  story  should  git  round,  it 
might  hurt  my  popularity.  Wall,  my  conshence  kept 
prickin'  like  nettles  an'  pins  all  the  way  tu  Washintun, 
until  I  gin  in,  and  conclooded  tu  du  the  hansum  thing 
by  lettin'  you  no  the  truth,  and  havin'  the  gal  let  out  of 
jail.  An',  thinkin'  you  mite  be  jest  a  leetle  stuffy,  I 
thort  I  wouldn't  cum  back  to  Richmond  jest  now,  tho' 
I  mean  to  cum  and  see  you  all  when  the  war's  over. 

Good-by. 

Yours  truly  an'  affectionately, 

Kexdall. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the  feelings  of  the 
august  Cabinet  at  the  reading  of  this  precious  epistle, 
which  was  received  with  mingled  expressions  of  rage, 
contempt,  and  laughter.  Thus  far  they  had  all  had  a 
good  deal  of  confidence,  —  not  of  course  in  Kendall's 
principles,  but  in  his  serving  them  in  good  faith  for  the 
sake  of  his  idol,  gold,  —  a  faith  that  Gen.  Atherton  had 


284      THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BEXDE. 

tried  in  vain  to  shake.  But  they  saw  clear  enough  now 
that  they  had  been,  not  only  bought,  but  sold.  In  ex- 
treme disgust  with  the  whole  affair,  the  President  or- 
dered the  man's  lodgings  searched,  and,  if  the  proofs  he 
named  were  found,  the  enlargement  of  the  prisoner. 

"  We  probably  see  now  why  Atherton  was  so  deeply 
interested  in  this  lady's  case,"  said  one  of  the  secretaries. 

"  Yes,"  said  another :  "  but  I  think,  if  it  had  been  my 
case,  I  would  have  been  manly  enough  to  have  owned 
the  truth  regarding  so  fair  and  talented  a  lady  as  Miss 
Hale,  if  she  was  a  Yankee  governess.  Her  reply  to  this 
accursed  scoundrel,  regarding  the  slave-owner,  sets  her 
up  wonderfully  in  my  estimation." 

The  proofs  were  found  where  Sweep  had  indicated ; 
and  the  intimation  that  she  was  allied  to  some  one 
in  authority  procured  her  respectful  treatment  at  the 
time  of  her  release.  Most  likely,  if  she  had  applied  in 
the  proper  quarter,  a  refuge  would  have  been  provided 
for  her  until  she  could  have  communicated  with  her 
friends  ;  but  this  was  not  so  to  be. 

Morning  dawned  upon  her  at  last,  bright  and  beauti- 
ful ;  though  the  deep  mud  everywhere  testified  to  the 
force  of  the  storm,  and  made  locomotion  difficult.  For 
the  fact  that  she  had  been  undisturbed  by  any  thing 
through  the  night  but  the  rats,  the  storm,  and  her  own 
fears,  she  thanked  God,  and  took  courage. 

After  a  while,  the  woman  came  in  with  some  bread  and 
coffee  on  a  tray,  but  kept  the  door  in  her  hand  as  she 
set  them  down,  and  would  scarcely  answer  Catharine's 
questions  or  salutations. 

She  looked  darker,  fiercer,  and  even  more  repulsive  by 
the  light  of  day  than  she  had  done  the  evening  previous  ; 
and  Catharine  saw  at  once  that  she  either  would  not  or 


AGAIN  IN  BONDS.  285 

dared  not  set  her  at  liberty.  She  went  out  soon,  locking 
the  door  beliind  her.  Sure,  from  her  gruff  replies,  that 
Blondel  miglit  be  expected  at  any  moment,  Catharine 
soon  began  to  look  around  keenly,  seeking  vainly  for  some 
mode  of  escape.  Her  room  was  comfortless  and  dilapi- 
dated, as  indeed  appeared  to  be  the  whole  establislimcnt. 
The  plastering  had  fallen  from  the  walls  in  unsightly 
patches ;  the  floor  was  covered  with  dirt,  piles  of  rags,  old 
clothes,  and  worn-out  boots  and  shoes,  as  if  it  had  been, 
the  general  reservoir  of  coarse,  cast-off  wearing  apparel. 
Some  of  it  had  lain  there  until  it  was  nearly  devoured 
by  moths  and  rats,  with  which  the  building  seemed  over- 
stocked. The  only  window  looked  out  upon  a  cheerless 
back  yard,  overgrown  with  weeds,  beyond  which  lay  the 
open  country  outside  of  Eichmond.  The  floor  was  un- 
carpeted  of  course ;  the  bed,  a  sack  of  straw  upon  an 
ancient  cot  bedstead,  which,  with  a  broken  chair,  com- 
posed the  furniture.  She  examined  the  door,  the  win- 
dow, —  nailed  down  with  a  rusty  spike,  — the  cupboard, 
the  closet,  and  in  fact  every  thing  that  could  be  sup- 
posed to  afford  an  avenue  of  escape,  like  some  wild  ani- 
mal pursued  by  the  hunter  and  the  hounds. 

But  to  whom  and  to  what  should  she  escape,  when  she 
knew  no  one  in  Richmond  who  would  receive  her  ?  Must 
she  go  on  foot  and  alone,  through  mud  and  mire,  and 
throw  herself  upon  the  protection  of  Gen.  Atherton,  who 
had  never  yet  announced  their  marriage  to  the  world, 
and,  for  aught  she  knew,  might  have  insuperable  objec- 
tions against  doing  so  at  all?  Every  instinct  of  pride, 
propriety,  and  female  delicacy  forbade  such  a  thought ; 
though  even  that  were  preferable  to  falling  into  the 
hands  of  the  odious  Blondel.  She  felt  as  if  every  hour  in 
that  place  was  fraught  with  terrible  danger,  and  that  there 


286      THE  REBEL   GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

could  scarce  be  more  anywhere  else.  Slie  must  and  would 
get  out  of  that  house,  she  thought,  before  the  day  was 
over;  for  the  night  would  bring  the  odious  wretch,  she 
was  very  sure.  The  hours  passed  slowly  away.  She  be- 
gan to  grow  sleepy,  for  she  had  not  slept  a  wink  the  pre- 
vious night.  She  would  not  give  way  to  the  feeling ;  but 
walked  the  room,  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  tried  its 
fastening  with  all  her  wit  and  strength,  but  in  vain,  for 
the  want  of  some  instrument  to  unloosen  the  spike. 
Almost  desperate,  she  began  to  turn  over  the  piles  of 
dust-covered  rubbish  to  see  what  she  could  find.  At 
last,  hung  up  behind  the  closet-door,  she  found  an  old 
blouse,  and  a  pair  of  pants  to  match,  that  had  evidently 
belonged  to  some  slender  youth,  which  put  new  ideas 
into  her  head,  and  suggested  a  plan  for  escape.  An  old 
palm-leaf  hat  with  a  torn  brim,  and  a  pair  of  old  boots, 
the  best  and  smallest  she  could  find,  completed  the  dis- 
guise ;  mthout  which  she  felt  sure  no  woman  could 
traverse  town  or  country  at  that  time  without  subjecting 
herself  to  insult. 

Placing  the  things  in  the  closet  all  together,  she 
thought  she  would  lie  down  for  a  moment  to  rest  and  ar- 
range  her  plan  for  escape.  She  did  not  mean  to  go  to 
sleep ;  but  her  heavy  eyes  unconsciously  closed,  and  she 
was  in  the  land  of  dreams. 

From  this  state  of  blissful  unconsciousness  she  was 
aroused  at  last  by  a  deep,  prolonged,  and  thunderous 
roar,  that  rattled  the  glass  in  the  old  window,  shook  the 
earth,  and  brought  her  to  her  feet,  strongly  excited  by 
terror  and  apprehension.  She  knew,  however,  as  soon 
as  she  had  time  to  think,  that  it  was  the  awful  roar  of 
battle,  —  the  thunder  of  the  great  conflict  Gen.  Atherton 
had  assured  her  was  so  near  at  hand.     There  had  been 


AGAIN  IN  BONDS.  287 

a  good  deal  of  firing  for  several  days,  but  nothing  to  be 
compared  with  this.  So  near  and  distinct  seemed  the 
fearful  utterances,  that  for  some  minutes  she  really  thought 
the  city  was  besieged  by  the  Union  army. 

But  Catharine  was  not  the  only  one  who  had  been 
suddenly  awakened  and  alarmed  by  the  terrible  sounds ; 
for  hardly  had  she  come  to  her  senses  before  the  old 
stairs  began  to  creak  from  rapidly-ascending  footsteps,  the 
door  was  unlocked,  and  her  female  jailer  rushed  in.  She 
was  half  dressed,  her  eyes  were  wild  with  terror,  and 
her  gray  hair  was  streaming  behind  her  like  the  snaky 
locks  of  Medusa.  Without  stopping  to  close  the  door, 
she  ran  up  to  Catharine,  exclaiming,  — 

"  We're  lost !  —  we're  lost !  The  Yankees  are  com- 
ing !  We'll  all  be  murdered  in  a  trice  !  "  and  wrung  her 
hands  in  agony  of  spirit ;  while  the  tears  streamed  down 
her  sallow  cheeks  like  rain. 

This  restored  Catharine  to  her  senses,  and  she  realized 
at  once  the  ludicrousness  of  the  fears  of  both.  The 
door  stood  open,  and  the  idea  of  instant  flight  presented 
itself ;  but,  being  unprepared,  it  was  discarded. 

"You  are  mistaken,  my  good  woman,"  she  returned  in 
answer  to  her  wild  appeal.  "  The  Yankees  are  miles 
away  from  Richmond;  but  the  two  armies  are  no  doubt 
cannonading  each  other.  They  may  come  here  in  a  few 
days  :  but,  if  they  do,  I  am  not  afraid  ;  for  I  have  friends 
in  the  Union  army,  who  will  protect  me,  and  you,  too,  if 
you  will  let  me  stay  with  you.  I've  no  friends  in  Rich- 
mond now ;  and  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know  where  else  to 
go." 

Assured  by  Catharine's  manner  and  tones,  the  poor 
woman  became  calmer,  but  still  looked  at  her  sus- 
piciously, as  she  said,  — 


288      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL' S   LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"  Well,  I  dunno  what  the  boss  will  say.  He  ordered 
me  to  keep  ye  locked  up :  and  there's  the  door  wide 
open ;  "  and  she  sprang  towards  it  in  evident  fear  of  Cath- 
arine's escape.  '^  But  I  wonder  he  don't  come/^  she 
added :  "  he  said,  if  he  didn't  come  back  last  night,  he 
would  to-day,  sure.  If  there's  a  big  fight,  though,  he'll 
want  to  stay  to  clear  up  the  ground." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

''  Oh  !  no  matter.  I  guess  he  knows  where  he  gets  the 
biggest  harvest  with  the  fewest  hard  knocks." 

"  Where  is  that  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  know  that  a  battle-field's  ekal  to  a  bank 
or  a  jeweller's  shop  for  money,  watches,  an'  sich  fixins'  ?  '' 

^' Ah,  I  understand,"  said  Catharine  in  disgust;  "and 
there  is  a  big  fight,  I  should  think  by  the  noise  :  so  I 
guess  he'll  stsLj,  and  we  will  try  and  make  ourselves 
comfortable  ;  won't  we  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  dunuo :  I'm  'fraid  he'll  come  and  swear  at 
me  or  beat  me,  as  he  alius  does." 

"  Why  do  you  care  for  him  ?     Are  you  his  wife  ?  " 

"  His  wife  !  "  and  a  bitter  sneer  crossed  her  dark  vis- 
age. "  I  ought  to  be ;  but  he  wants  no  wife.  I  have 
been  his  victim,  and  he  is  as  merciless  as  the  grave.  Not 
even  you,  with  all  your  youth  and  beauty,  will  escape 
him,  or  be  more  to  him  in  a  week  than  I  am  to-day ;  " 
and  she  glanced  at  Catharine  with  a  look  of  ill-concealed 
jealousy  and  hatred. 

"I  will  not  be  your  rival  if  I  can  help  it,"  she  re- 
turned ;  "  and  you  certainly  can  prevent  it  by  letting  me 
go." 

"  I  dare  not  do  it :  if  he  knew  I  did,  he  would  kill 
me." 

"  Well,  if  I  must  stay,  do  go  and  get  a  cup  of  tea,  and 
we  will  eat  together,  and  be  friends." 


AGAIN   IN   BONDS.      .  289 

"T  want  some  myself,  for  I've  had  no  dinner;  and 
he's  like  enough  to  come  hungry  as  a  bear.  But  there's 
sicli  a  horrible  din,  I'm  'most  'fraid  to  go  down  alone. 
But  I  must :  for  I  dare  not  take  ye  with  me,  for  fear 
he'd  come  and  find  us." 

So,  with  fear  and  trembling,  she  did  leave  the  room 
to  prepare  a  meal  for  him,  as  well  as  herself  and  Cath- 
arine, locking  the  door  behind  her. 

ISTow  was  Catharine's  time ;  and  there  was  not  a  mo- 
ment to  lose,  if  he  was  expected  every  moment. 

"With  nervous  eagerness,  she  pulled  out  the  strange 
garments  from  the  closet,  and  hastily  exchanged  them 
for  most  of  her  own,  which  she  put  in  their  places. 

They  felt  stiff  and  awkward  at  first,  but  were  a  tol- 
erably decent  fit  of  gray  Kentucky  jean.  The  old  boots 
went  on  very  well  over  her  cloth  gaiters,  —  otherwise 
they  would  have  been  too  large.  She  could  not  help 
smiling  at  the  figure  she  cut,  but  missed  the  big  hoops 
more  than  any  thing  else. 

Luckily  for  her  now,  though  she  thought  it  unlucky 
enough  at  the  time,  Catharine  had  lost  her  long,  shin- 
ing hair  by  the  fever,  and  her  head  now  covered  by  a 
short  crop  of  fine,  silky  auburn  curls.  This  made  her 
look  very  much  like  a  pretty,  fair-skinned,  delicate  boy 
of  sixteen  ;  and,  when  she  put  on  the  old  hat;  the  meta- 
morphosis was  complete. 

She  next  looked  out  of  the  window  to  see  if  any  thing 
could  be  seen  of  Blondel,  —  the  act  strongly  reminding 
her  of  Fatima  in  the  old  nursery  tale  of  Bluebeard. 
And  behold,  an  equal  to  Bluebeard  was  there  ! 

Ab  to  what  she  was  to  do  with  herself,  if  she  did 
get  away,  she  could  not  tell.  Any  way,  it  would  be  bet- 
ter to  starve  in  the  streets  than  fall  into  the  hands  of 

26 


290      THE   REBEL   GENERAL's   LOYAL   BRIDE. 

the  grizzly  jayhawker.  In  boy's  clothes,  she  could 
surely  find  something  to  do,  and  be  comparatively  safe 
from  insult. 

The  continued  and  tremendous  concussions  of  the  can- 
non that  were  still  reverberating  in  her  ears  strongly 
suggested  the  thought  of  flight  to  the  Union  army. 

Having  completed  her  arrangements,  she  knelt  down, 
and  fervently  commended  herself  to  God  for  protec- 
tion and  guidance. 

The  door  of  her  room  and  that  of  the  closet  opened 
outwards  side  by  side.  So,  as  soon  as  she  heard  the  wo- 
man's footstep  on  the  stairs,  she  slipped  into  the  closet, 
leaving  the  door  ajar.  When  she  came  up,  unlocked 
tlie  door,  and  came  in  with  a  waiter  in  her  hands,  and 
moved  along  to  set  it  down  on  the  bed,  Catharine  slipped 
out  just  behind  her,  and  was  out  of  the  room,  and  had 
the  door  locked  upon  her  former  jailer,  before  that  lady 
was  hardly  aware  of  what  was  going  on. 

She  had  indeed  been  struck  with  astonishment  at 
the  glimpse  of  a  strange  boy  coming  out  of  the  closet ; 
and  in  her  surprise  nearly  let  her  waiter  fall  before  she 
missed  her  charge,  or  at  all  comprehended  the  truth. 

Leaving  her  screaming  ^'  Murder  !  Fire  !  Thieves  ! " 
and  all  other  sorts  of  imprecations,  Catharine  ran  like 
lightning  down  the  stairs  to  the  front  entrance.  Find- 
ing that  bolted,  she  started  to  go  through  a  front  room 
to  the  rear,  thinking  she  might  there  find  an  easier  mode 
of  egress.  Hearing  the  sound  of  wheels,  she  looked  out 
of  the  window,  and  there,  to  her  horror,  beheld  the 
odious  Blondel  driving  around  the  house  to  the  rear  in 
his  old  rickety  mule-wagon. 

For  an  instant  she  was  paralyzed:  but  he  was  looking 
up   to  the   chamber-windows,  listening   to   the   woman's 


AGAIN  IN  BONDS.  291 

horrid  imprecations;  so  she  recovered  her  wits,  and  ran 
back  to  the  front  door.  By  her  utmost  exertions  she 
at  last  succeeded  in  removing  the  heavy  bolt,  and  open- 
ing it.  The  street,  or  rather  lane,  that  led  to  the  city, 
was  in  sight  all  the  way  from  the  front  of  the  house, 
and  of  course  out  of  sight  from  the  rear;  so  it  was  just 
possible  for  her  to  secure  her  retreat  before  he  discov- 
ered her  escape.  Her  heart  stood  still  for  a  moment, 
as  she  realized  her  position,  then  gave  a  quick  bound 
as  she  sprang  from  the  threshold,  and  ran  swiftly  down 
the  lane. 

We  may  be  sure  that  she  did  not  let  the  grass  grow 
under  her  feet  as  she  ran  back  to  Richmond,  and  very 
sure  that  the  old  roof  was  nearly  raised  with  curses, 
when  Blondel  came  in,  found  the  woman  locked  up,  and 
Catharine  gone  :  he  had  come  back  almost  wholly  on  her 
account ;  for  he  had  seen  her  through  the  window  the 
evening  previous,  and  compelled  the  woman  to  confess 
the  truth.  Before  she  got  to  the  city,  her  lameness  had 
partially  returned,  and  her  fictitious  strength  was  fast 
deserting  her.  When  she  reached  the  main  street,  she 
looked  back,  and,  seeing  no  one  in  pursuit,  stopped  a  mo- 
ment to  take  breath.  She  then  timidly  mingled  with  the 
great  crowd  of  people  on  foot,  on  horseback,  and  in 
carriages,  wagons,  and  ambulances,  all  seemingly  mov- 
ing in  one  unbroken  stream,  in  the  direction  of  the  omi- 
nous sounds  that  still  continued  to  stun  the  ear,  and  rend 
the  smoky,  sulphurous  atmosphere.  She  thought,  at 
first,  that  everybody  must  notice  her  awkwardness  in 
her  strange  garments;  but,  as  no  one  seemed  to  think  or 
care,  she  became  more  assured,  and  paused  a  moment 
before  a  handsome  house  to  consider  what  she  had  beN 
ter  do. 


292      THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

At  this  moment  a  gentleman  in  the  uniform  of  a 
Confederate  colonel,  whose  face  seemed  somehow  familiar, 
rode  up  to  the  curbstone,  and,  seeing  no  one  else  more 
available,  said, — 

"  Boy,  will  you  hold  my  horse  a  few  moments  ?  I 
have  business  here." 

^•Certainly,"  said  Catharine,  promptly  taking  the 
reins,  yet  sorry  for  it  the  next  moment,  when  she 
thought  of  Blondel. 

The  gentleman  went  into  the  mansion,  was  gone 
some  time,  and  came  out  looking  very  sorrowful.  He 
mounted  his  fine  horse,  tossed  her  a  few  small  coins  for 
her  trouble,  and  then  said,  as  he  looked  her  over 
keenly,  — 

"  What  is  your  name,  my  son  ?  It  seems  as  if  I 
ought  to  know  you." 

"  My  name  is  —  is  EUery  Hale,  sir,"  she  returned,  as 
the  hot  color  flashed  over  her  face.  She  had  not  once 
thought  of  assuming  a  name ;  so,  upon  the  impulse  of 
the  moment,  she  gave  a  part  of  her  own  maiden  name, 
which  was  Catharine  Ellery  Hale. 

'^  Do  you  belong  here  in  Eichmond  ?  "  he  questioned. 

"No,  sir,"  slie  replied,  "I  am  from  the  country." 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

"  Nothing ;  but  I  want  something  to  do.  My 
friends  were  all  gone  when  I  arrived :  their  house  is  shut, 
and  I  am  homeless." 

"Would  you  like  to  enlist?  My  regiment  will  be 
along  very  soon.  We  want  men,  boys,  —  any  thing,  to 
fill  up  the  ranks,  that  can  handle  a  musket." 

"  No,"  she  instantly  replied,  "  I  could  never  consent 
to  kill  men,  —  made  in  God's  own  image." 

"  Well,  you  do  look  rather  young  for  the  business. 


AGAIN  IN  BONDS.  293 

But  what  can  you  do  ?  That  fair,  blushing  face,  and 
those  wliite,  slender  hands  never  saw  many  liardships, 
I  fancy." 

"  The  hand  is  a  feeble  one,  it  is  true  ;  for  I  have  been 
ill :  yet  it  can  take  care  of  the  sick  and  wounded,  and 
has  done  it,  not  only  here,  but  at  Manassas." 

"  Indeed  !  Well,  if  that  is  the  case,  you  can  have 
plenty  of  business  by  going  with  us,  if  that  tremen- 
dous roar  signifies  any  thing.     But  will  you  go  ?  " 

Catharine  hesitated  a  moment :  then,  with  a  sudden 
impulse,  she  said,  ''  I  will  go,  sir." 

It  was  her  first  chance ;  and  she  was  ready  to  do  al- 
most any  thing,  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  the  odious 
Blondel,  who,  she  felt  sure,  would  be  seeking  for  her 
everywhere. 

She  had  remembered,  at  that  moment,  seeing  Col. 
Elliot  at  Mrs.  Hunter's.  She  knew  him  to  be  an  honora- 
ble man,  too ;  and  that  decided  her  to  accept  his  proposal 
in  her  desperate  circumstances.  She  never  once  thought 
of  making  herself  known  to  him,  and  claiming  his  pro- 
tection, as  she  might  have  done  :  and,  if  she  had,  tlie 
thought  of  her  repulses  the  day  before  from  those  of  her 
own  sex,  upon  whom  she  felt  that  she  had  some  claim, 
would  have  made  her  hesitate.  She  knew  enough  other 
distinguirihed  people  in  Richmond ;  but  if  those  ladies, 
knowing  her  and  her  desperate  circumstances  so  much 
better,  would  suspect  and  scorn  her,  aho  felt  as  if  uU 
the  rest  would  do  the  same. 

But  she  had  little  time  for  reflection.  The  troops 
soon  came  along :  a  place  was  found  for  her  in  one  of 
the  ambulances  ;  and,  before  she  hardly  realized  what 
she  was  about,  she  was  on  her  way  to  the  battle-field. 
Was  it  destiny  ? 

2ii* 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


ESCAPIXG. 


THE  FIELD  OF  BATTLE. 


N  her  way  to  the  Chickahominy,  Catharine 
had  plentj^  of  time  for  reflection  ;  and  her 
heart  became  oppressed  with  new  alarms,  as 
she  thought  of  the  chances  of  battle,  the 
constant  exposure  to  detection,  the  fear  of  insult,  and 
all  the  horrors  connected  with  army  life. 

Her  travelling  companions  proved  to  be  a  surgeon 
and  his  assistant,  witli  a  half-invalid  officer,  who,  she 
found  from  the  conversation,  had  just  come  from  a  dis- 
tant post  to  the  support  of  the  army  before  Richmond. 
Tliey  seemed  to  have  greatly  exaggerated  ideas  of  the 
strength  and  immensity  of  McClellan's  army,"  and 
ratlier  doubtful  of  the  success  of  their  cause  generally. 

She  drew  her  old  hat  down  over  her  eyes,  so  as  to  es- 
cape observation ;  and  for  a  while  they  scarcely  noticed 
her.     At  last  the  surgeon  turned  to  her,  and  said,  — 

"  So  jou,  too,  are  going  out  to  the  camp,  my  boy ; 
arc  you  ?  " 

"  That  is  my  intention,  sir,"  she  replied. 

"  You  have  no  arms  I  see.  What  are  you  going 
there  for  ?  " 

"  To  help  take  care  of  the  wounded,  sir." 

294 


ESCAPING.  295 

"  Your  Lands  tlon't  look  like  bloody  work,  or  indeed 
work  of  any  kind  :  they  are  as  white  as  a  lady's." 

"  They  can  work  for  all  that ;  tlioiigh  I  have  been 
sick,  and  for  a  long  time  idle,"  she  said  with  a  height- 
ened color. 

"  You  are  unfit  for  the  camp  then,  as  well  as  myself," 
said  the  young  officer.     "  Why  do  you  go  there  ?  " 

"  Because  I  have  neither  friends  nor  money  now,  and 
Lave  nowhere  else  to  go." 

"  Well,  it's  a  pity  you  were  not  a  lady,  with  that  fair 
face,  those  beautiful  hands,  and  clear,  silvery  tones.  If 
you  were,  I  expect  I  should  fall  in  love  with  you,"  said 
the  surgeon's  assistant  with  a  merry  laugh. 

"And  then  what  would  become  of  the  charming 
widow  ?  "  said  his  companion  laughingly. 

"Her  reign  no  doubt  would  be  over,  and,  like  all  past 
dynasties,  make  but  a  line  on  the  pages  of  the  history 
of  one  human  heart." 

"  You  are  so  philosophical  about  it,  that  I  guess  the 
impression  was  not  very  deep.  For  myself,  I  would 
rather  have  this  young  chap  remain  a  boy :  for  I  need 
another  assistant ;  and  a  green  hand  is  better  than  none. 
If  I  am  not  mistaken,"  he  continued  aside  to  his  com- 
panion, "  there  is  a  world  of  grit  and  resolution  in 
those  mournful  eyes,  —  a  look,  too,  that  one  trusts  and 
puts  confidence  in." 

The  torrent  of  rain  the  night  before,  and  the  constant 
stream  of  travel,  made  the  roads  horribly  muddy ;  yet,  as 
it  was  within  seven  miles  of  Itichmond  that  the  armies 
wei3  contending,  the  journey  was  soon  over ;  and  the 
sublime  horrors  of  the  battle-field  burst  upon  their  view. 

The  corps-commander  to  whom  Col.  Elliot  liad  orders 
to  report  did  not  Iiappcn  to  be  engaged  that  day ;  so 


296      THE  EEBEL  GE^TERAL'S   LOYAL  BRmE. 

they  soon  found  their  place  in  the  line,  and  made  tlieir 
arrangements  for  whatever  exigencies  might  befall 
them. 

Long  before  they  reached  their  position,  Catharine 
had  begun  to  realize  —  in  the  murderous  and  deafen- 
ing roar,  the  whistling  of  sliot,  the  shrieking  of  shell,  the 
sulphurous  smoke,  and  difficulty  of  breathing  the  sti- 
fling air — some  of  the  horrors  of  the  battle-field ;  but  it 
was  not  until  the  battle  for  the  day  was  over,  and  she, 
with  others,  was  ordered  to  assist  in  bringing  in  the 
wounded,  —  following  the  track  of  carnage  red  with 
human  gore,  and  thickly  strewn  with  dead  horses,  torn 
limbs,  and  dead  and  dj'ing  wrecks  of  mortality,  —  that 
she  felt,  in  all  its  horrors,  the  woe  and  anguish  the  mad 
passions  of  men  had  brought  upon  her  suffering  coun- 

try- 

The  attack  that  day  had  been  a  surprise  to  the  Union 
army;  some  divisions  of  which  had  been  driven  from 
their  positions  with  terrible  slaughter,  leaving  in  their 
retreat  a  track  red  with  carnage,  and  piled  with  heaps 
of  the  slain.  The  brave  Union  generals  did  every 
thing  in  their  power  to  check  the  retreat,  and  turn  the 
fortunes  of  the  day,  but  all  in  vain. 

By  some  strange  oversight  or  mismanagement.  Gens. 
Casey  and  Keyes  had  been  stationed  so  far  in  advance 
of  the  main  army,  with  the  former  five,  and  the  latter  but 
eight  thousand  men,  that,  though  they  fought  with  the 
most  heroic  valor,  they  could  not  be  expected  to  conquer 
the  sixty-four  thousand  valiant  soldiers  that  the  keen- 
sighted  rebels,  who  well  understood  their  weakness, 
brought  against  them. 

Nothing  but  disaster  could  have  been  expected;  so 
the  Confederates  claimed  a  great  victory  at  Fair  Oaks, 
and  Seven  Pines. 


ESCAPING.  297 

But,  if  victory  it  was,  it  was  terribly  dear-bought,  as 
the  thousands  of  their  own  dead  and  dying  too  surely 
testiiied.  The  next  day,  which  was  Sunday,  the  rebels 
again  attacked  the  Union  army  with  determined  bra- 
very, but  were  driven  back  witli  great  slaugliter,  leav- 
ing their  dead  and  wounded  behind  them. 

For  some  days  Catharine  shared  the  fortunes  of  Col. 
Elliot's  regiment,  —  sleeping  at  night,  when  sleep  was 
possible,  among  the  piles  of  baggage,  and  employed  by 
day,  as  a  waiter  and  assistant,  in  the  work  of  the  field- 
hospitals. 

The  Union  army  at  this  time  was  stretched  for  twenty 
miles  along  the  banks  of  the  Chickahominy ;  and  the 
line  of  battle  was  ten  miles  long. 

Though  she  saw  nothing  of  Gen.  Atherton,  Cath- 
arine heard  that  he  was  posted  some  three  or  four  miles 
away  from  her.  In  her  present  state  of  mind,  she  pre- 
ferred that  that  space  should  divide  them.  She  preferred 
the  toil,  hardship,  and  danger  of  her  position  to  the 
idea  of  going  to  him  humbly  and  unsolicited,  and  throw- 
ing herself  upon  his  protection.  Yet  there  was  an  un- 
comfortable feeling  in  the  thought  of  his  displeasure,  if 
they  ever  did  meet,  and  he  found  out  the  truth.  This, 
with  the  constant  temptation  to  escape  to  the  Union 
lines,  was  torturing,  to  say  the  least  of  it. 

But  the  lines  were  so  closely  watched  and  guarded, 
and  deserters  were  so  severely  punished,  that  she  dared 
not  make  the  experiment. 

For  days,  there  was  constant  skirmishing  and  several 
serious  engagements,  but  as  yet  none  as  tremendous 
and  bloody  as  that  of  Seven  Pines,  where  the  rebels 
confessed  to  a  loss  of  four  thousand,  which  Catharine 
had  every  reason  for  supposing  was  three  or  four  times 
that  number. 


298      THE  REBEL  GENEP.AL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

She  had  taken  the  place  Dr.  Garnett  assigned  her; 
and  he  found,  as  the  days  went  by,  that  he  had  no  reason 
to  doubt  his  first  impressions  regarding  tlie  courage 
and  resolution  of  the  pale,  sligKt  youtli  who  liad  from 
the  first  taken  his  fancy,  and  won  liis  protection  and 
friendship. 

Silent,  shy,  and  reserved,  she  j^et  won  the  respect, 
esteem,  and  confidence  of  those  around  her  by  her 
constant  and  devoted  attention  to  the  wants  of  the 
wounded,  and  by  lier  eagerness  to  seek  out  and  to  save 
all,  both  friends  and  f^es,  who  were  lying  on  the  field  of 
battle.  Buoyed  up  by  the  most  heroic  courage,  and  re- 
pelled by  no  scene  of  horror,  no  hand  was  firmer  or  as 
tender  as  hers  in  binding  up  broken  limbs,  or  washing 
ghastly  wounds,  or  clean-sing  the  mud  and  gore  from  the 
most  brutal  and  repulsive  of  the  swearing,  godless  wretches 
who  came  sometimes  under  her  care.  Xo  skill  was  found 
greater  than  hers  in  restoring  the  fluttering  pulses  of  the 
sorely-wounded,  or  in  re-animating  and  cheering  their 
fainting  spirits.  And,  wlien  all  earthlj^  hope  was  over, 
she  could  point  them  to  that  better  land,  where  a  Saviour 
was  waiting  to  receive  all  true  penitents.  It  was  noticed, 
too,  by  some  that  she  was  especially  kind  to  the  wounded 
Union  prisoners  who  had  fallen  into  rebel  hands  ;  whose 
claims  others  around  her  were  inclined  to  ignore,  and 
who,  but  for  her  intercession,  would  sometimes  be 
treated  with  positive  unkindness  and  inhumanity. 

If  she  afibrded '^•' aid  and  comfort  to  the  enemy  "by 
caring  for  them,  it  was  certainly  offset  by  the  lives  she 
saved,  the*  agony  she  mitigated,  and  the  loving  care  she 
bestowed  upon  her  loyal  friends. 

The  wounded  were  transferred  to  Hichmond  as  fast 
as  the  means  of  transportation  would  admit,  until  every 


ESCAPING.  299 

hospital,  warehouse,  public  building,  and  almost  every 
private  residence,  was  full ;  and  still  the  continued  fight- 
ing kept  the  field-hospitals  crowded,  and  the  surgeons 
and  their  assistants  fully  occupied. 

Nearly  a  month  had  elapsed  since  Catharine  had 
come  to  the  camp  ;  during  whicli  time  she  had  made 
several  trips  on  the  carstoEichraond,  in  care  of  wounded 
soldiers.  In  spite  of  her  life  of  toil,  exposure,  and  excite- 
ment, she  had  been  growing  phj^sically  better  every  day. 
By  using  Dr.  Garnett's  prescriptions,  her  lameness  had 
vanislied.  The  bright  color  of  health,  as  well  as  the 
brownness  of  exposure,  tinged  both  clieek  and  brow ; 
though  at  heart  she  was  sorely  troubled  and  discon- 
tented: for,  in  spite  of  her  position  and  connections, 
we  must  remember  that  sbe  was  still  loyal  to  the  Union 
cause,  still  exultant  at  their  successes,  still  overwhelmed 
with  cjrief  at  their  defeats. 

It  is  true,  that,  if  it  had  depended  upon  her,  the  war 
would  never  have  been.  But,  in  spite  of  her  opinions,  it 
was  a  fixed  fact ;  and,  being  so,  it  was  the  most  natural 
thins:  in  the  world  that  slie  should  side  with  her  North- 
ern  people. 

And  now  that  Eichmond  was  threatened  by  them  as 
by  a  moving  pillar  of  fire,  and  she  knew  their  success 
would  at  once  crush  the  rebellion,  or  their  defeat  fear- 
fully prolong  the  struggle,  she  could  not  but  hope  and 
pray  for  the  success  of  their  arms,  and  the  overthrow 
of  the  immense  hosts  gathered  to  oppose  them.  Yet 
she  could  not  blame  the  Confederates,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, for  defending  their  capital, — the  ark,  as 
they  considered  it,  of  their  public  safety. 

But  as  the  days  went  by,  and  Catharine  learned,  from 
Union  prisoners,  the  real  fact,  she  trembled  for  the  safety 


300      THE  EEBEL  GENTSRAL's  LOYAL  BRmE. 

of  the  Union  army.  She  knew  that  tho}'  had  lingered 
so  long  on  the  way,  and  been  exposed  to  such  deleteri- 
ous influences,  that,  notwithstanding  their  large  num- 
bers, they  were  now  no  fit  match  for  the  formidable,  ex- 
ultant, and  acclimated  hosts,  secure  in  their  own  de- 
fence, fighting  on  their  own  ground,  and  in  defence  of 
their  own  homes,  brought  to  oppose  them.  This  -being 
so,  it  was  in  vain  for  the  brave  Union  leaders  to  go  up, 
as  they  did,  in  Prof.  Lowe's  balloon,  a  thousand  feet  or 
more  in  the  air,  to  survey  the  battle-fields  or  llichmond? 
—  that  Mecca  of  their  hopes  they  were  never  destined  to 
reach.  They  had  indeed  a  splendid  viev^^  unfolded  to 
their  gaze,  but  not  one  calculated  to  inflame  tliem  with 
enthusiasm,  or  inspire  them  with  undoubting  assurances 
of  success. 

''  There  indeed  lay  Kichmond,  across  the  western 
horizon,  —  a  confased  medley  of  red  and  brown  and 
black,  —  w4th  its  wliite  spires  glittering  in  the  sun- 
shine ;  but  before  and  around  it,  in  all  directions,  Avere 
great,  heavy  brown  fortifications,  with  thick,  solid  walls, 
pleutifully  sprinkled  with  frowning  cannon,  that  loolied 
any  thing  but  inviting  to  an  assaulting  foe." 

Away  to  the  South,  the  James  River  rolled  its  glitter- 
ing waves  through  a  deep,  crooked  valley  5  bearing  many 
white  sails  upon  its  bosom,  that  looked,  in  the  distance, 
like  swans  breasting  the  angry  current. 

Beneath  their  feet,  from  beyond  the  line  of  vision, 
ran  tlie  now  famous  but  dreaded  Chickahomin\^,  — like 
a  thread  of  silver,  bordered  by  its  dark-green,  mias- 
matic swamps,  —  beautiful  to  the  upper,  if  not  the 
lower  view,  but  full  of  disease  and  lingering  death. 
"■  Between  this  and  the  fortifications  before  Richmond,  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  lay  the  rebel  camps,  and  all 


THE  FIELD   OF  BATTLE.  301 

the  parapliernalia  of  war  that  surrounded  them.  Op- 
posite to  them,  and  partly  on  the  other  side  of  the  river, 
lay  their  own  magnificent  but  depleted  army,  waiting 
eagerly  for  the  signal  of  onset  their  leaders,  now  that 
they  realized  the  truth,  dared  not  give."  "Between 
the  two  armies  lay  a  broad,  dark-green  and  yellow 
curved  belt ;  upon  which  neither  men  nor  teams  nor 
w\agons,  nor  any  other  military  signs  were  visible;  but 
over  which  cannon-balls  were  thrown,  and  scouts  and 
pickets  hid  from  each  other.  Broad,  quiet,  apparently 
deserted,  solemn  and  sombre,  Jupiter's  rings  or  Saturn's 
belts  never  presented  a  grander  sight  to  mortal  eye." 

It  was  easy  enough  in  those  days  to  blame  generals 
and  statesmen  for  the  failure  of  that  peninsular  cam- 
paign ;  but  we  know  now  that  the  hand  of  God  was  in 
it,  leading  us  in  deep  humiliation,  by  a  way  we  knew 
not,  to  do  tardy  justice  to  the  down-trodden  and  af- 
flicted millions  who  had  groaned  so  long  beneath  the 
yoke  of  bondage. 

Until  that  dark  hour  of  humiliation  and  disappoint- 
ment, our  rulers,  and  the  nation  generally,  had  not 
looked  the  thing  steadily  in  the  face.  They  had  hoped 
to  gain  peace  by  a  shorter  and  far  less  objectionable 
route.  The  South  must  be  coaxed  back :  so  they  sent 
the  poor  fugitives  off  from  our  lines,  thus  consigning 
them  to  the  lash  and  the  torture  and  a  still  more  unen- 
durable bondage.  Our  generals  refused,  at  their  hands, 
that  knowledge  of  tlie  country  and  its  armies  that 
would  have  insured  them  victories  where  they  suffered 
defeats.  Xow,  however,  both  rulers  and  people  were 
made  to  see  that  they  must  choose  between  the  disso- 
lution of  the  Union  and  the  dethronement  of  slavery ; 
and  that  the  latter  alone  was  the  price  of  victory.     An 

26 


302      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

earlier  recognition  of  this  fact  would  have  saved  rivers 
of  blood  and  millions  of  treasure ;  but  the  nation  was 
not  then  prepared  for  this,  and  had  to  pay  a  bitter  pen- 
alty for  its  blindness. 

The  beautiful  June  da.ys  nearly  all  passed  away ; 
and  still  the  Union  army  were  no  nearer  Eichmond 
than  they  were  a  month  before.  And  while  the  w^hole 
North  were  w^ondering  at  the  delay,  and  looking  eagerly 
forward  to  the  hour  that  was  to  give  the  coveted  prize 
into  their  hands,  the  whole  South  was  boiling  over  with 
rage,  hatred,  and  plans  of  vengeance  against  the  invad- 
ers, who  dared  to  dream  of  conquering  them,  and  cap- 
turing the  stronghold  of  Confederate  power. 

Gen.  Lee  had  taken  the  place  of  Johnston,  the  leader 
of  the  army  of  the  Potomac,  who  was  seriously  wounded 
at  Seven  Pines ;  and  they  waited  onl}^  for  the  arrival  of 
the  brave  Jackson  to  commence  the  demolition  of  the 
Union  army. 

He  had  just  met  with  brilliant  successes  in  the  Shen- 
andoah Valley.  He  had  captured  an  immense  amount 
of  army  and  medical  stores  from  another  division  of 
the  Union  arm}^,  and  immediately  transferred  them 
to  the  relief  of  the  Confederates  before  Kichmond ;  to 
whom  they  were  a  godsend  just  at  that  time.  As  he 
retreated  immediately  after  his  exploit,  tlie  Union  gen- 
erals felt  as  if  they  had  driven  him  out  of  the  valley, 
when  in  fact  he  was  only  hastening,  by  special  orders, 
to  the  relief  of  the  beleaguered  capital. 

Catharine  knew  all  this ;  and  w^hen,  upon  the  after- 
noon of  the  26th  of  June,  Jackson's  advance  began  to 
arrive  upon  the  field,  and  the  joyful  news  was  echoed 
from  lip  to  lip,  she  began  to  tremble  for  the  fate  of  the 
Union  army. 


THE  FIELD   OF   BATTLE.  303 

All  that  long,  weary  afternoon  a  fierce  battle  raged 
along  the  lines,  but  without  any  definite  results,  except 
the  destruction  of  human  life,  and  the  rapid  filling  up 
of  the  field-hospitals.  The  next  morning  at  daybreak 
the  bloody  work  commenced  anew. 

Having  passed  a  sleepless  night  caring  for  the  poor 
sufferers,  she  felt  wretched,  weary;  and  nervous,  and  real- 
ized more  acutely  than  ever  before  the  momentous  is- 
sues that  might  be  decided  by  the  conflict  of  an  hour 
or  a  day.  She  knew  that  Jackson  was  hourly  expected 
upon  the  field,  and  that  the  prestige  of  his  already  fa- 
mous name  would  go  nearly  as  far  towards  inspiring  the 
brave  Southern  heart  as  that  of  Napoleon  did  with  his 
indomitable  French  legions. 

An  inward  prescience  she  had  felt  once  before,  and 
did  not  presume  to  question,  assured  her  that  some  one 
she  loved,  and  with  wliom  she  held  invisible  chords  of 
communion,  would  be  in  that  day's  fight,  and  in  great 
danger.  She  thought  of  her  brothers,  of  Llo^^d  Hunter, 
and  even  Gen.  Atherton,  in  the  wordless  prayer  sent  up 
for  the  safety  of  all  who  were  dear  to  her. 

That  day  was  fought  the  battle  of  Gaines  Mills,  con- 
ceded by  all  to  be  one  of  the  bloodiest  and  most  hotly 
contested  of  the  campaign. 

From  the  first,  tlie  Confederates  had  determined  that 
this  should  be  a  decisive  day  tu  them.  For  a  month, 
the  people  and  the  soldiery  had  borne  the  infliction  of  a 
Union  army  before  their  gates  with  ill-eoncealed  impa- 
tience; but  their  leaders  knew  that  they  lost  nothing 
by  delay.  The  miasma  of  the  swamps  of  the  Chickahom- 
iny  was  reaping  for  them  a  far  richer  but  quieter  death- 
harvest  than  any  common  series  of  battles  could  bestow. 

But  every  thing  was  now  prepared  for  the  final  issue: 


304      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's   LOYAL  BRIBE. 

The  Soutli  demanded  it,  and  it  must  come.  Witli  Rich- 
mond at  their  backs,  —  their  national  existence,  as  well 
as  all  their  slave  property,  at  stake,  —  ^Yith  skilful  gen- 
erals, and  superabounding  in  regiments  fierce  and  reso- 
lute as  tigers,  they  had  every  advantage  that  position, 
skill,  and  numbers  could  give. 

So  it  was  in  vain  for  McClellan  to  plan  ;  or  for  Porter 
to  thunder  with  his  terrific  cannon ;  or  for  Smith  and 
Sumner,  Hooker  and  Kearney,  to  reap  them  with  a 
frightful  death-harvest;  for  still  they  rolled  upon  the 
Union  lines  in  successive  and  thunderous  waves,  until, 
after  long  hours  of  bloody  and  useless  resistance,  the 
Union  forces  were  obliged  to  give  way  or  be  annihilated. 

Catharine  saw  the  advancing  columns  as  they  went 
to  their  bloody  work.  Through  blinding  dust,  and  sti- 
fling smoke,  she  eagerly  watched  the  evolutions  of  large 
bodies  of  cavalry,  infantry,  and  artillery  without  pretend- 
in^  to  understand  them.  But  she  did  understand 
the  meaning  of  the  shouts  that  rent  the  air  when  Jack- 
son came  upon  the  field  with  his  war-worn  legions  ;  and 
she  felt  as  if  there  was  a  glorious  inspiration  in  the 
presence  of  that  stern  warrior,  that  would  go  far  towards 
insuring  to  the  South  a  victory.  Xor  was  she  mistaken. 
He  had  arrived  at  the  most  critical  moment,  —  when 
the  shattered  Southern  columns,  pressed  back  with  terri- 
ble slaughter,  wavered,  and  were  about  to  fly;  and  by 
the  prestige  of  his  renown,  and  the  valor  of  his  veteran 
troops,  turned  the  fortunes  of  the  day. 

He  took  his  appointed  place  in  the  line,  and  "with 
fierce  grandeur  the  charge  swept  on,  unchecked  by  the 
terrible  fire  of  the  triple  lines  of  infantry  on  the  hills, 
or  the  cannon  on  both  sides  of  the  river,  that  rever- 
berated; and  mingled  in  one  grand  roar,  like  the  noise 


THE  FIELD   OF  BATTLE.  305 

of  a  great  cataract,"  or  the  sweep  of  a  tornado  over  a 
forest  of  giant  trees,  bearing  tliem  down  like  a  bed  of 
reeds  beneath  its  terrible  stroke,  and  with  a  terrific 
power  that  seemed  to  shake  the  earth.  Through  the 
thick,  blinding,  sulphurous  smoke,  the  sun  looked  down, 
like  a  red  fiery  eye,  upon  a  scene  over  which  Human- 
ity shuddered.  Pity  veiled  her  terrified  gaze,  and  Mercy 
wept  tears  of  blood.  The  red  sun  sank  at  last  beneath 
the  western  horizon ;  and  night  put  an  end  to  a  con- 
flict in  which  the  Union  army  was  forced  to  retreat, 
and  the  Confederates  claimed  a  great  victory. 

Long  after  that  conflict  ceased,  the  air  was  filled  with 
dust  and  smoke  and  sulphurous  vapor.  The  earth  shook 
no  more  with  the  deafening  roar  of  cannon  and  musketry, 
with  the  tramp  of  mighty  armies  or  the  continued  roll 
of  heavy  wagons  ;  yet  Death  continued  to  reap  a  rich 
harvest  of  human  souls,  and  the  widespread  fields  and 
woods  for  miles  were  dabbled  with  human  gore. 

Friends  and  foes,  by  thousands,  lay  side  by  side,  or 
in  piles,  where  the  battle  raged  fiercest,  —  peaceful  now, 
in  the  last  long  sleep  of  death. 

Men  of  noble  intellect  and  lofty  ambition,  who  fought 
for  glory  and  renown,  were  there,  —  men  of  pure  lives 
and  generous  impulses,  who  fought,  as  they  believed, 
for  the  cause  of  truth,  justice,  and  human  liberty.  Men 
of  shining  talents,  cultivated  intellect,  and  holy  aspira- 
tions, who  believed  they  were  God's  instruments  in  the 
establishment  of  the  Kedeemer's  kingdom  on  earth,  were 
mingled  in  frightful  confusion  with  some  of  the  greatest 
villains  who  ever  cursed  it  by  their  presence.  Some  of 
these  were  still  sending  up  shrieks  and  groans  and  oaths 
and  curses,  mingled  with  prayers,  to  pitying  Heaven 
for  forgiveness,  help,  and  mercy.     The  banners  under 


306      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's   LOYAL  BEIBE. 

wliich  tliey  had  fouglit  lay  torn  and  bloody,  and  tram- 
pled in  the  dust;  while  arms  and  trappings,  caissons 
and  broken  wagons,  and  dead  and  dying  horses,  cum- 
bered the  ground,  and  completed  the  horror  and  desola- 
tion of  the  scene. 

As  the  night  came  on,  patrolling  and  fatigue  parties 
of  soldiers,  with  lanterns,  ambulances,  and  stretchers, 
traversed  field  and  meadow,  swamp  and  woodland,  — 
wherever  the  battle  raged  fiercest,  —  gathering  up  the 
wounded,  and  administering  temporary  relief  to  those 
who  were  evidently  bound  upon  that  last  sad  journey  to 
the  land  where  wars  and  fightings  arQ  over,  and  all  is 
peace. 

Among  the  fatigue-parties  ranging  over  the  battle- 
field, was  one  from  the  regiment  to  which  Catharine 
was  attached,  accompanied  by  herself  and  Dr.  Garnett. 
They  were  making  a  special  search  for  the  body  of  Col. 
Elliot,  who  was  known  to  have  fallen  in  the  fight,  but 
who,  thus  far,  had  not  been  distinguished  from  the 
slain  thousands  around  him.  They  had  found  plenty  of 
others,  however,  to  whose  appeals  for  help  they  could  not 
turn  a  deaf  ear,  until  their  ambulance  was  full,  and  it 
was  necessary  to  return  to  the  camp. 

"  It  is  strange  we  do  not  find  him,"  said  the  sergeant. 
"I  know  that  it  was  somewhere  near  this  big  tree  that  he 
fell  from  his  horse  in  the  heat  of  the  battle ;  but  the  ex- 
act spot  I  do  not  remember." 

"  Well,"  said  Dr.  Garnett,  '■  we  will  return  to  the  hos- 
pital with  these  poor  men,  and  then  come  back  and 
renew  the  search  for  our  noble  coloneL" 

"  I  am  afraid  we  could  not  again  find  the  spot  in  the 
darkness  and  gloom  of  night,  sir." 

"  We  might  leave  some  one  with  a  lantern  to  signal- 
ize us  by  and  by,"  said  the  doctor. 


THE  FIELD   OF  BATTLE.  307 

"But  who'll  want  to  stay,  — alone  with  the  dead? 
I  don't." 

"  Nor  I !''  said  his  companion. 

"  1*11  bet  you  an  X  that  this  little  fellow  has  got  more 
pluck  than  either  of  you,"  said  the  doctor,  laughing  in 
spite  of  their  sad  surroundings.  "  How  is  it,  my  son  ? 
Are  you  afraid  to  stay  ?  " 

A  feeling  of  awe  crept  over  Catharine,  as  she  looked 
around  upon  the  ghastly  faces,  and  glazed  and  glazing 
eyes ;  yet  she  said,  almost  in  spite  of  herself,  — 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  dead :  I  can  still  care  for 
the  living.     I  will  stay." 

"  Well,  then,  my  brave  boy,  we  will  leave  you  a  lan- 
tern, a  flask  of  brandy,  and  a  canteen  of  water;   and 
I  want  you  to  continue  the  search  all  around  here  for 
Col.  Elliot.     If  he  is  still  living,  you    may,  by  staying 
here,  save  his  life ;  and  you  know  how  dear  that  is  to  us 
all."     She  needed  no  urging  to   do   this:    for  he   had 
been   very   kind   to   her  from  the  first,    and   she    was 
deeply  grateful.     So,  as  soon   as   they  were    gone,  she 
commenced  the  search  among  the  dead  and  dying,  who 
had  fallen  thickly  around  that  particular  tree.     She  had 
begun,  and  made  the  circuit  of  the  tree,  and  was  bend- 
in"-  over  a  poor  ragged  and  wounded  rebel  soldier,  and 
pouring  water  between  his  parched  lips,  when  she  heard 
a  deep  groan  just  behind  her.     She  turned,  and,  flash- 
ing the  light  in  that  direction,  saw  that  it  .did  indeed 
come  froni  her  friend,  Col.  Elliot.     He  had  raised  him- 
self upon  one  elbow,  and,  with  a  dull,  dreary  look  and 
pallid  face,  was  looking  around  him.     He  was  but  just 
aroused   from   a   deathlike    stupor,  caused   by  the   loss 
of  life-blood.     She  was  joyfully  surprised  to  find   him 
alive,  but  shocked  by  his  ghastly  appearance.     She  ran 


308      THE  EEBEL  general's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

to  him  at  once,  pronouncing  his  name.  He  feebly  held 
out  his  hand  to  her,  and  smiled  gratefully  as  he  said,  in 
a  faint,  spasmodic  tone,  — 

"  How  glad  I  am  to  see  you,  my  son  !  You  see,  I  am 
sorely  wounded.  I  am  very  weak.  I  guess  I  must  —  have 
fainted.     Did  we  gain  the  victory  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir:  the  Union  army  has  retreated,"  she  said 
with  a  keen  pang  of  disappointment. 

"  Thank  God !  Our  cause  is  just,  and  must  prosper  in 
the  end.  Please  give  me  some  water.  Oh,  how  horribly 
that  limb  pains  me  !  —  and  my  side  !  I  fear,  Ellerj^,  — 
that  I  am  mortally  wounded.  If  I  die  here,  carry  my 
best  love  —  to  my  friends.  God,  in  whom  I  trust,  knows  — 
I  would  gladly  die  —  to  save  mj  country  —  from  defeat 
and  shame.'"' 

"Oh,  I  think  you  will  live!"  said  she  earnestly. 
"  Your  voice  grows  stronger  every  moment.  Let  me 
bind  up  your  wounds  as  well  as  I  can,  and  stop  the  flow 
of  life-blood ;  and  I  think  you  will  survive." 

"  I  hope  so,  — if  only  —  to  help  —  drive  these  invad- 
ers—  from  our  soil." 

She  did  not  reply,  but  busied  herself  in  tearing  strips 
from  a  torn  and  blood-stained  banner,  with  which  she 
bound  up  his  wounds  to  the  best  of  her  ability.  Soothed 
and  comforted  by  her  kind  ministrations,  he  soon  began 
to  look  around  the  gory  field,  which  was  mostly  shrouded 
in  darkness. 

"What  is  that?"  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  —  "those 
lights  moving  yonder  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  must  be  some  of  the  patrols,  or  perhaps 
Dr.  Garnett  and  some  of  your  men,  who  were  coming 
back  to  look  for  you.  I  must  wave  the  signal ; "  and 
she  swung  the  lantern  back  and  forth  to  attract  their 


THE   FIELD   OF  BATTLE.  809 

attention.  "  There  !  They  see  it  now,  and  are  coming 
til  is  way.  How  glad  I  am  that  I  have  found  you 
alive  ! " 

"  And  I,  too,  thank  God  !  I  always  felt  —  as  if  you 
were  somehow  —  akin  to  me,  and  would  do  me  good.  Per- 
haps it  was  hecause  — you  so  strongly  resemble  —  a  lady  I 

saw  last  year  —  in  Richmond.  She  was  from  the  North, 

and  I  would  give  a  great  deal  —  to  know  what  became  of 
her.  She  was  said  to  have  been  carried  off  —  by  bandits 
last  autumn.  I  have  watched  you  —  a  great  deal,  —  tra- 
cing the  semblance  ;  and  sometimes  —  I  have  thou^^ht 

But  look  !  Those  are  not  —  tlie  patrols.  They  have 
none  of  their  equipments  !  Good  heavens  !  They  are 
the  robbers  —  of  the  dead,  —  the  accursed  jayhawkers." 

They  were  indeed  the  jayhawkers;  and  Catharine, 
with  her  heart  beating  with  a  wild  and  terrible  fear,  in- 
stinctively lowered  the  slides  of  her  dark  lantern,  as, 
with  strained  gaze,  she  watched  them  at  their  hellish 
work 

On,  on  they  came,  nearer  and  nearer,  apparently 
some  fifteen  or  twenty  in  the  gang.  They  rifled  the 
pockets  of  the  dead  of  money,  rings,  watches,  minia- 
tures, knives,  and  small  arms,  —  every  thing  in  fact  that 
was  valuable,  or  pleased  their  fancy.  They  robbed  the 
wounded  too ;  and  if  they  resisted,  or  attempted  to  ex- 
postulate, plunged  their  knives  into  their  bosoms,  while 
shrieks  of  fear,  and  wails  of  agony,  followed  in  their 
train.  The  battle  had  been  the  most  fiercely  contested, 
and  Death's  richest  harvest  had  been  reaped,  in  that  por- 
tion of  the  field  where  Col.  Elliot  had  fallen.  Many  offi- 
cers, in  both  Union  and  rebel  uniform,  lay  there,  cold 
and  still.  It  was  from  such  as  these  they  hoped  for  the 
most  abundant  spoil ;  and  they  pursued  their  nefarious 
work  with  the  greatest  celerity  and  despatch. 


310      THE  EEBEL   GENERAl's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"  See  !  Tliey  are  coming  !  "  exclaimed  the  wounded 
officer  in  a  hoarse  whisper.  "Fly  to  the  woods,  my  dear 
boy,  and  save  3'ourself  if  3*011  can." 

"  Oh,  I  cannot  go,  and  leave  you  here  to  die  in  that 
horrible  way  !  "  she  murmured  tremblingly.  "  Here,  take 
some  of  this  brandy ;  and  then  let  me  see  if  I  cannot 
help  you  to  fly  too." 

He  took  the  brandj^ ;  and  then  Catharine  got  hold  of 
his  hands  and,  tried  to  raise  hini;  or  at  least  drag  him 
towards  the  woods,  that  were  near  at  hand." 

"  It  is  in  vain  !  "  said  he  mournfully,  as,  after  repeated 
but  unsuccessful  efforts  to  rise,  he  fell  back  upon  the 
sod.  "My  strength  has  all  vanished  with  mj  life-blood, 
and  yours  is  unequal  to  the  task  of  dragging  me  to  a 
place  of  safety.  I  must  stay,  and  meet  my  fate  as  best 
I  may  !  Here,  take  my  pistols  :  they  are  loaded  !  Go, 
and  may  God  bless,  protect,  and  guide  you  !  " 

"  I,  too,  have  arms,  and  know  how  to  use  them. 
Hark!  what's  that?"  and  she  sunk  down  upon  her 
knees  beside  him. 

"  It  is  the  patrols,"  he  whispered  with  deep  feeling. 

"  Thank  God !  we  shall  be  saved." 

Instantlj',  upon  the  sound  of  their  approach,  the  lights 
of  the  blood-and-gold  seekers  vanished;  and,  cowering  be- 
hind rocks,  bushes,  and  heaps  of  slain,  no  one,  upon  a  cas- 
ual inspection,  would  have  dreamed  of  the  living  power 
of  evil  lurking  upon  that  terrible  field  of  death. 

But  Catharine  and  the  poor  colonel  were  doomed  to 
disappointment.  The  robbers,  though  still  at  a  little 
distance,  were  much  nearer  than  the  patrols,  who  soon 
turned  off  in  another  direction,  and  were  lost  to  their 
view  behind  the  woods. 

The  fiendish  wretches  then  rose  to  their  feet,  and  re- 
sumed their  satanic  work. 


THE  FIELD   OF  BATTLE.  311 

"  God's  will  be  done  !  "  moaned  the  wretched  colonel. 
"  It  is  ray  destiny  !  Stoop  down  here,  Ellery,  and  take 
my  watch  and  purse,  and  one  kiss  in  memory  of  her 
you  so  strongly  resemble,  and  then  go,  —  go,  and  God 
bless  you ! " 

She  took  the  precious  keepsakes,  even  to  the  brotherly 
kiss,  yet  with  blinding  tears  of  grief  and  regret,  and 
was  still  hesitating  whether  to  go,  or  stay  and  defend 
her  friend  with  her  life,  when  her  eye  fell  upon  the  fore- 
most villain  of  the  gang. 

After  finishing  the  struggles  of  a  wounded  Union 
officer,  who  attempted  evidently  to  resist  his  brutality, 
and  fruitlessly  searching  his  pockets,  he  raised  himself 
to  look  around,  and  scent  some  richer  prey.  As  he  did 
so,  the  light  he  carried  gleamed  over  his  swarthy  visage  ; 
and,  with  chilling  blood  and  paralyzed  limbs,  Catharine 
beheld  the  malignant  face  of  Blondel. 

"God  help  us!  it  is  he!"  she  murmured,  —  "the 
wretch  who  murdered  Major  Hunter,  and  captured  "  — 

"Go, —  go,  then,  in  God's  name  !  He  will  be  here  in 
a  few  minutes.  Biit  the  strength  is  coming  back  to  this 
right  arm.  I  shall  not  die  unavenged.  Farewell,  dear 
boy.     Don't  wait  another  instant,"  he  whispered. 

She  needed  no  more  urging ;  but,  pressing  the  friendly 
hand  that  held  hers,  then  relinquishing  it  with  a  word- 
less prayer  for  their  mutual  safety,  she  glided  noiselessly 
towards  the  woods.  The  colonel,  who  was  leaning  on  his 
elbow,  sank  dowm  upon  the  sod  to  escape,  if  possible,  the 
notice  of  this  lynx-eyed  old  buzzard  of  the  battle-field. 
As  he  did  so,  the  glitter  of  his  military  trappings  caught 
a  gleam  of  the  robber's  lantern,  that  betrayed  to  the 
wretch  the  vicinity  of  life  and  promising  plunder.  He 
stopped  a  few  moments  to  arrange  the  sack  that  con- 


312      THE  REBEL  GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

tained  liis  booty,  looked  back  towards  his  comrades,  who 
were  a  few  rods  in  the  rear,  and  then  advanced  to  exam- 
ine and  make  sure  of  liis  prey. 

Catharine,  meantime,  having  gained  the  covert  of  the 
woods,  was  withheld  as  by  a  spell  from  going  farther. 
She  sunk  down  upon  her  knees,  and,  with  hushed  breath 
and  glittering  eyes,  looked  out  fearfully  upon  the  appall- 
ing scene.  Instinctivel}^,  and  almost  without  conscious 
thought,  she  set  down  her  dark  lantern,  and  grasped  the 
pistol  she  had  found  upon  the  battle-field  of  Seven  Pines. 
Assuring  herself  that  the  caps  were  all  right,  she  waited 
in  breathless  eagerness  for  what  was  to  come.  She  had 
not  long  to  wait,  and  was  near  enough  to  hear  every 
footfall,  and  witness  every  diabolical  act. 

Blondel  advanced  cautiously,  flashing  his  light  around 
to  select  the  most  promising  victim,  and  at  last  stood  be- 
side Col.  Elliot. 

"  Aha ! "  he  exclaimed  in  evident  surprise,  as  the 
light  gleamed  over  his  pallid  featm'es ;  while  a  flash  of 
recognition  and  malignant  satisfaction  passed  over  his 
own  bloated  visage.  "  So  you  are  here  at  last,  my  fine 
popinjay !  You  won't  swear  an  honest  feller's  life 
away  agin  in  a  hurry,  I  take  it ; "  and  with  vengeful 
spite,  he  kicked  and  turned  the  colonel  over  with  his 
foot.  It  was  too  much  for  a  brave  man's  endurance. 
The  colonel,  who  had  lain  still  in  the  faint  hope  of  es- 
caping the  eye  of  this  human  vulture,  instantly  raised 
himself  up  on  his  left  elbow,  and,  with  the  pistol  grasped 
in  his  right  hand,  attempted  to  fire. 

But  the  old  robber  was  too  quick  for  him.  Before  he 
could  pull  the  trigger  with  his  weak  and  trembling 
fingers,  the  piece  was  knocked  from  his  nerveless  grasp, 
and  exploded  in  the  air. 


THE  FIELD   OF   BATTLE.  313 

"Villain!"  exclaimed  the  colonel  fiercely,  "  I  would 
give  millions  to  be  able  to  put  a  bullet  through  your 
murderous  heart,  and  rid  the  world  of  such  a  mon- 
ster ! " 

''Aha!  Don't  you  wish  the  Devil  would  give  you 
the  power  ? "  he  returned  with  a  sardonic  laugh. 
"Neither  heaven  nor  hell  shall  prtvent  the  execution 
of  Blondel's  vengeance  upon  one  who  attempted  to 
thwart,  and'  expose  him  to  the  government.  No  amount 
of  prayers  or  ransom  could  purchase  your  life  of  me, 
Col.  Elliot,  at  this  moment,"  said  he  fiercely,  as  he  raised 
his  glittering  bowie  in  the  air  to  plunge  to  the  heart  of 
his  helpless  victim. 

At  this  instant  a  sharp  report  rang  out  upon  the  stilly 
night :  an  unseen  messenger  was  sent  upon  its  way. 
Blondel's  arm  fell  paralyzed  at  his  side  ;  and,  with  a 
horrid  oath,  he  rolled  over  at  Col.  Elliot's  feet,  —  not  dead, 
but  sorely  wounded. 

Catharine,  who  had  sped  the  deadly  missile,  cowered 
tremblingly  to  the  earth,  with  a  heart  filled  by  a  strange 
terror  at  the  thought  that  she  had  sent  a  human  soul 
unprepared  into  eternity. 

But  this  fear  vanished  when  she  heard  the  robber's 
oaths  and  curses,  and  saw  his  inefi'ectual  attempts  to  reach 
Col.  Elliot  with  the  knife  he  still  held  in  his  left  hand, 
but  which  his  inability  to  move  a  little  nearer  would  not 
enable  him  to  do. 

The  noise  of  the  two  reports  of  pistols  aroused  Blondel's 
comrades,  who  at  once  came  running  towards  the  spot. 
Some  of  them  were  gesticulating  violently,  and  pointing 
to  the  woods,  towards  which  two  of  them  cautiously 
ventured ;  while  the  others  went  towards  the  place 
where  Blondel  and  the  colonel  lay. 
27 


314      THE  REBEL  GENEEAl's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

As  the  two  brave  villains  carae  near  the  woods,  they 
discharged  their  pieces  at  a  venture,  the  ball  from  one 
of  them  just  grazing  Catharine's  ear. 

Terrified  now  almost  out  of  her  senses,  she  mechani- 
cally caught  up  her  lantern  and  pistol,  and  ran  with  all 
speed  into  the  thick  woods. 

She  did  not  know  until  afterwards,  that,  at  that  very 
moment,  Dr.  Garnett  and  his  party  made  their  appear- 
ance, — just  in  time  to  capture  Blondel,  and  save  Col. 
Elliot's  life.  The  rest  of  the  robbers  made  their 
escape. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THEODORE. THE   MEMORABLE    SEVEN   DAYS. 

^ATHARINE  dared  uot  open  her  lantern  ;  so 
by  the  light  of  the  stars  she  pressed  on 
through  the  tangled  underbrush,  until  she 
'^'6^^^^%  began  to  see  the  faint  light  of  a  clearing  on 
the  other  side.  There  she  ventured  to  halt,  look  back, 
and  listen.  But  all  was  darkness,  and,  so  far  as  human 
sounds  were  concerned,  profound  silence.  Her  pursuers 
had  vanished.  Probably  they  had  not  followed  her  far. 
Here,  then,  she  was  probably  as  safe  as  anywhere,  until 
the  morning.  If  she  emerged  upon  the  open  plain,  she 
thought  she  might  meet  other  parties  of  a  similar  char- 
acter ;  yet  she  resolved  to  venture  to  the  edge  of  the 
wood  to  see  if  there  were  any  living  or  moving  objects 
in  view. 

The  forest  here  was  almost  destitute  of  undergrowth ; 
so  she  went  swiftly  forward,  cheered  by  the  faint  light 
tliat  every  moment  grew  stronger.  All  at  once  she 
stumbled,  and  fell  over  some  obstacle  that  lay  across  her 
pathway.  She  thought  that  it  was  a  rock  or  fallen  tree, 
until  a  faint  moan  saluted  her  ears.  Then  she  knew 
that  it  was  a  human  form.  A  strange,  shuddering 
thrill  shot  through  her,  as  she  rose  to  her  feet;  and  she 
listened  eagerly  for  farther  signs  of  life   in    the    dark 

315 


316      THE   REBEL   GEXERAL's   LOYAL   BRIDE. 

form  before  lier.     There  was  none,     ^ot  a  sigh  or  mo- 
tion^ or  a  single  sound  of  pursuers. 

Summoning  courage  at  last,  she  opened  her  lantern, 
and  flashed  the  light  upon  the  prostrate  body.  She 
saw  at  once  that  it  bore  the  uniform  of  a  Federal 
officer.  The  regimental  hat  was  drawn  down  over  a 
handsome,  manly  face,  darkened  by  southern  suns  ;  and 
for  several  minutes  she  gazed  curiously  upon  it,  wonder- 
incr  who  it  could  be. 

All  at  once  she  started  eagerly  forward,  sunk  down 
upon  her  knees  beside  him,  and,  with  trembling  hand, 
raised  the  hat  from  the  rigid  brow,  and  looked  for  a 
moment  upon  the  pallid  face. 

^''  0  my  God  !  it  is  —  it  must  be  —  my  brother !  My 
dear  Theodore ! "  she  exclaimed  with  quivering  lips  and 
sinking:  heart.  A  sudden  faintness  came  over  her ; 
but  she  conquered  it  by  a  strong  effort  of  the  will.  He 
seemed  perfectly  insensible,  though  still  warm  in  the 
resrion  of  the  heart:  and  she  felt  that  there  was  not  a 
moment  to  lose :  so,  pressing  a  kiss  upon  the  pale  brow, 
she  began,  with  eager  hands  and  blinding  tears,  the  work 
of  trjang  to  restore- the  feeble  pulses,  that  she  imagined 
still  beat  faintly  in  the  stiffening  form.  She  found  that 
he  was  grievously,  3^et  she  hoped  not  mortally,  wounded 
through  the  right  side ;  and  loss  of  blood,  she  judged, 
was  the  cause  of  his  inanimate  condition.  She  had 
still  the  flask  of  brandy  and  the  canteen  of  water  strung 
to  her  belt;  and,  by  the  judicious  application  of  these 
remedies,  the  life-currents  were  soon  restored  to  their 
natural  channels,  and  he  began  slowly  to  revive. 

He  opened  his  eyes  at  last,  and  fixed  them  wonder- 
ino-lv,  and  for  some  time  dreamily,  upon  her  face.  Her 
old  hat  had  fallen  off;  and,  with  the  short  auburn  ring- 


THEODORE.  317 

lets  curling  around  her  sunburned  face,  it  so  strongly 
resembled  a  sunny  one  lie  remembered  in  the  long  ago, 
that  he  murmured  feebly,  "  Strange !  I  ought  to  know 

—  that  face  !     Who  are  you  ?  " 

Catharine  hesitated:  she  had  not  thought  he  would 
recognize  her.  Should  she  tell  him,  that  in  those  dark 
Virginia  woods,  at  dead  of  niglit,  in  such  a  garb, 
and  surrounded  by  such  fearful  scenes,  he  had  found  his 
dear  lost  sister?  She  longed  to  do  so,  and  weep  out  her 
joy  and  fear  and  despair  upon  his  friendly  bosom.  But 
reason  whispered,  "Forbear,  rash  girl!  The  shock 
would  kill  him.  His  life  is  but  a  feeble,  glimmering 
taper :  a  breath  would  blow  it  out."  So  she  did  for- 
bear ;  and  when,  as  he  grew  stronger,  and  repeated  the 
question,  she  said,  "  I  am  a  poor,  forlorn  waif  from  the 
Confederate  camp,  lost  in  the  darkness,  seeking  friends." 

"  Then  you  will  betray  me,"  he  murmured  mourn- 
fully. 

"  Ko,  I  will  not.  I  would  be  glad  to  get  to  the  Union 
lines  myself ;  for  I  have  dearer  friends  there  than  here." 

"  Indeed  !    I  wish  you  could,  then.    But  how  strangely 

—  familiar  your  voice  sounds.  It  carries  me  back  —  to 
the  home  of  my  youth  —  and  the  mother  —  and  sisters 

—  I  may  never  live  to  see  more,"  said  he  feebly. 

"  Oh  !  you  will  live,  I  am  sure,"  she  returned,  con- 
trolling her  emotion  by  a  strong  effort.  "  I  have  seen 
many  wounds  ;  and  yours,  I  hope,  is  not  mortal." 

"  It  grows  painful  enough,  any  way.  But  what  is 
that?" 

Catharine  turned  quickly  in  the  direction  of  the 
Bound.  The  twigs  and  branches  were  parted  carefully 
from  the  fringe  of  shrubbery  that  skirted  the  woods,  a 
dark  face  appeared  at  the  opening  j  and  she  could  hardly 

27* 


318      THE   REBEL   GENERAL's   LOYAL   BRIDE. 

suppress  a  cry  of  joy  that  rose  to  her  lips,  as  Uncle 
Nick's  honest  visage  was  presented  to  her  view.  He 
gazed  at  her  for  a  moment  in  astonishment ;  while  she, 
remembering  her  disguise,  put  on  her  old  hat,  and  drew 
it  down  over  her  eyes,  to  prevent  the  half-formed  recog- 
nition. Her  looks  assured  him  of  her  friendliness ;  so  he 
came  at  once  to  Theodore's  side. 

''  Ay,  young  massa  captin  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Nick 
dreflfiil  glad  he  find  ye.  He  bin  lookin'  dis  long  time. 
But  for  dis  lantern  he  tink  he  neber  du  it.  De  rebs  all 
round  de  plain;  an'  he  dodged  about  till  he  forgit  de 
spot.     Drefful  ticklish  bisiness  to  get  away,  massa." 

"  Then  you  must  go  without  me,  Nick.  I  am  a  great 
deal  weaker  than  I  was  when  you  dragged  me  into  the 
bushes.  I  doubt  if  I  could  walk  a  rod  to  save  my  life. 
I  think  I  have  been  in  a  swoon ;  from  which  I  sliould 
never  have  awakened  but  for  this  generous  little  rebel. 
You'll  have  to  leave  me  to  my  fate,  my  kind  friend." 

^'  Ah !  but  Nick  tink  ob  all  dat ;  an'  he  done  cotch  a 
big,  grand  boss  dat  was  runnin'  round  so  frisky ;  an'  he 
got  hiui  all  fixed,  an'  de  ole  banner  an'  tings  to  put 
round  him,  an'  tie  up  de  shot-hole ;  an'  he  tink  he  put 
young  massa  on  his  back,  an'  lead  him  troo  de  danger 
like  an  ole  weazel." 

"  It  is  impossible  !  I  find  I  cannot  sit  up  a  moment. 
O  Uncle  Nick,  there  is  no  help  for  it !  I  must  die 
here,"  said  he  mournftillj^ 

"  Not  a  bit  on't,  Massa  Tedo.  Nick  no  leave  massa 
behind,  if  he  die  for't.  He  put  him  on  de  boss,  git  up 
behind  him,  hold  on,  an'  ride  like  de  debble.  He  die 
here :  he  no  more'n  die  on  de  boss's  back,  or  in  Massa 
Linkuni's  army." 

"  That  is  true  enough.     But,  Nick,  'tt  ithout  me,  you 


THEODORE.  319  • 

could  escape ;  burdened  with  me^  you  would  be  sure  — 
to  lose  your  life  or  liberty.  This  youth  wants  to  escape 
too.  He  is  light  as  a  feather  compared  —  to  me.  Take 
him  behind  you,  and  fly.'* 

"  No,  no  ! ''  said  Catharine  eagerly.  "  I  will  not  take 
your  place.  Your  wounds  want  immediate  attention, 
which  they  would  never  get  here,  if  you  were  found,  till 
it  would  be  too  late  to  save  you  :  for  the  thousands  of 
their  own  wounded  will  be  cared  for  first ;  and  then  you 
would  be  doomed  to  suffer  untold  agonies  in  some  cruel, 
bungling  experimenter's  hands,  if  cared  for  at  all.  We 
w^ill  dress  your  wound  first  as  well  as  we  can  to  stop  the 
flow  of  blood;  and  then  I,  who  know  all  about  it,  say 
that  you  had  better  go,  if  you  die  on  the  way,  to  the 
Union  lines,  than  to  remain  where  I  shall  be  safe 
enough  to  stay."        ' 

"  Then  I  will  try,"  he  said  in  an  exhausted  tone. 
"  Get  your  horse.  Uncle  Nick ;  and  we  will  see  what  can 
be  done." 

"  But  the  wound  first,"  said  Catharine. 

She  gave  him  first  some  of  the  brandy  and  water: 
then  Uncle  Nick  held  Theodore  up,  while  Catharine  put 
a  thick  compress  of  rags  and  dead  leaves  upon  the 
wound,  and  bound  it  there  with  strips  torn  from  the  old 
banner :  the  remainder  she  wound  around  him  to  pro- 
tect him  from  the  chilliness  and  damp  that  already, 
though  it  was  a  summer  night,  made  him  shiver,  lying 
as  he  did  upon  the  cold,  bare  ground. 

Nick  then  went  for  the  horse;  and,  while  he  was 
gone,  Theodore,  whose  strength  was  restored  a  little  by 
the  stimulant,  again  turned  his  attention  to  Catharine. 

"  How  much  you  do  look  like  —  and  your  voice  — 
Where  do  you  live,  my  boy,  —  when  at  home  ?  " 


320      THE  REBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"  In  Eichmond." 

"  Indeed  !  Well,  did  you  ever  see  a  lady  there  by  the 
name  of  Catharine  Hale  ?  "' 

"  Yes,  sir :  I  knew  her  well." 

"  Is  it  possible  ! "  and  he  started  up  eagerly,  but  fell 
back  from  extreme  weakness,  as  he  murmured,  "  Is  she 
there  stiU  ?  " 

"No,  sir.  She  lived  with  Major  Hunter,  who  was 
killed,  and  his  house  burned  by  the  guerillas.  The 
family  have  now  all  gone  off  to  North  Carolina." 

''  That  accounts  for  it,  then.  She  is  ray  sister,  and 
very  dear  to  me.  We  have  been  greatly  concerned 
because  she  did  not  come  home,  and  we  have  not  heard 
from  her  lately." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  know  she  wanted  to  go  home,  but  was 
prevented  after  the  battle  of  Bull  Eun  by  some  unfore- 
seen circumstances  ;  and  now  travelling  is  so  dangerous, 
and  passes  so  hard  to  obtain,  she  may  have  to  stay  until 
the  war  is  over.  But,  if  I  see  her  again,  shall  I  tell 
her  that "  — 

"  Her  friends  are  all  well  bnt  —  Theodore  ;  and  that 
she  is  still  dear  to  every  one,  and  remembered  in  their 
prayers." 

By  this  time  Nick  had  arrived  with  the  horse,  —  a 
fine,  spirited  but  well-trained  animal,  whose  master, 
most  likely,  was  among  the  slain.  Tying  him  to  a  sap- 
ling, he,  by  Catharine's  help,  succeeded  in  placing  Theo- 
dore upon  his  back,  with  a  couple  of  blankets  he  had 
found  under  and  over  him,  and  he  then  mounted  be- 
hind him.  But  still  he  lingered ;  and  at  last,  stooping 
down,  said,  — 

"  If  little  massa  on'y  strong  nuff  to  hold  up  de  cap' 
tin,  Nick  go  afoot.'^ 


THEODORE.  321 

"  I  could  not  do  it ;  and  it  would  only  add  to  the 
danger." 

"  Nick  tink  lie  know  dat  voice,"  lie  whispered,  "  an' 
he  want  dreffuUy  to  take  him  along." 

"  You  are  right,"  she  returned  in  a  low  tone  ;  "  but 
be  silent.  He  is  so  weak  he  cannot  bear  the  shock.  I 
may  come  hereafter.  There,  the  patrols  are  coming 
this  way.     Go,  and  may  God  help  us  —  all "  — 

"  Good-by,  den,  till  next  time,"  said  Nick  ;  and  "  Fare- 
well, with  a  thousand  thanks  for  your  kindness,"  mur- 
mured the  young  officer  faintly,  as  they,  slowly  at  first, 
and  as  noiselessly  as  possible,  moved  out  of  the  woods, 
and  away  towards  the  Union  army. 

As  they  did  so,  a  sudden  impulse  seized  her  to  follow 
them  on  foot,  and,  if  possible,  reach  the  Union  lines, 
that  she  might  extend  to  Theodore  that  loving  care 
which  she  felt  could  alone  save  his  life. 

She  acted  upon  it  instantly,  by  starting  in  as  close 
pursuit  of  them  as  possible,  keeping  stealthily  for  a 
time  in  the  shadow  of  the  woods  to  avoid  the  notice  of 
the  patrolling  parties,  who  were  scouring  the  plain  in 
various  directions,  looking  after  their  own  wounded. 

As  soon  as  Nick  thought  he  had  avoided  the  danger 
from  the  patrols,  he  struck  out  boldly  for  the  Union  lines  ; 
which,  though  he  knew  it  not,  were  fast  melting  away. 
Knowing,  of  course,  nothing  of  her  pursuit,  and  warned 
of  the  value  of  time  by  the  fainting  condition  of  his 
charge,  he  now  gave  his  horse  the  rein,  and  dashed  on  as 
fast  as  possible.  Unavoidably  falling  in  the  rear,  Cath- 
arine soon  lost  sight  of  them  in  the  darkness,  and  lost 
herself  in  the  interminable  intricacies  of  a  seemingly 
pathless  swamp. 

For  a  while  she  wandered  on,  hoping  she  was  in  the 


322      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

right  track,  but  getting  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  mire; 
and,  completely  worn  out  at  last  by  toil,  excitement,  and 
anxiety,  slie  sunk  down  upon  a  little  hillock  at  the  roots 
of  a  giant  tree,  and,  in  despair  gave  up  her  hopeless 
pursuit.  Having  eaten  nothing  since  the  early  morning, 
she  was  completely  famished  and  exhausted  for  the 
want  of  food,  as  well  as  rest.  So,  in  spite  of  all  the  dan- 
gers that  surrounded  her,  and  the  croaking  of  multitudes 
of  frogs  and  tree-toads,  and  the  bite  of  myriads  of 
mosquitoes,  she  laid  her  aching  head  up  against  the  body 
of  the  tree,  and  witli  a  wordless  prayer  upon  her  lips, 
dropped  oif  into  a  doze.  Just  as  day  was  breaking  in 
the  east,  she  awoke  in  a  fright,  and  started  to  her  feet, 
having  been  aroused  by  a  dream  of  attacking  rebels  and 
Indians. 

The  hiss  of  a  serpent  that  was  startled  by  her  sudden 
motion  warned  her,  as  he  moved  noiselessly  awa}^,  tliat 
the  dangers  to  which  she  had  been  exposed  had  not  all 
been  imaginary.  Nor  was  her  feeling  of  security  in- 
creased a  moment  later  by  the  challenge  of  a  rebel  sen- 
tinel, who  was  himself  alarmed  by  her  exclamation  of 
terror,  and  within  a  few  yards  of  whom  she  had  spent 
a  part  of  that  terrible  night. 

Stiff  and  sore,  and  sick  from  cold,  exhaustion,  and 
exposure;  disappointed  in  her  hope  of  getting  away  with 
Theodore,  and  with  a  heart  racked  with  anxiety  regard- 
ing him  and  the  fear  of  meeting  her  husband,  she  now 
gave  way  to  a  feeling  of  despair,  and  resigned  herself 
passively  to  the  direction  of  the  soldier,  who  presently 
took  her  to  the  encampment. 

When  questioned,  she  told  them  of  her  escape  from 
the  robbers,  but  not  of  her  meeting  with  her  brother,  or 
attempted  escape  to  the  Union  lines. 


THE  MEMORABLE  SEVEN  DAYS.  323 

The  facts  of  CoL  Elliot's  rescue  were  known  in  camp ; 
so  her  story  was  credited,  her  courage  praised,  and  his 
keepsakes  sent  back  to  him  just  as  they  were  removing 
him  to  Richmond. 

As  a  reward,  perhaps,  she  was  ordered  to  join  another 
division  that  was  to  follow  in  the  pursuit  of  the  Union 
arm}',  which  was  now  in  full  retreat. 

Through  all  that  terrible  Saturday,  Sunda}^,  and  ]\Ion- 
day,  she  followed  with  the  pursuing  rebel  hosts ;  hoping 
that  in  some  way  she  might  fall  into  Union  hands. 
Worn  out  in  body,  yet  so  excited  in  mind  as  hardly  to 
realize  her  true  condition,  she  strove  through  it  all  to  do 
what  she  could  towards  assuaging  the  pain,  mitigati-ng 
the  horror,  and  healing  the  wounds  of  the  hundreds 
find  thousands  who  were  sick,  suffering,  and  dying  all 
around  her. 

All  through  those  memorable  seven  days  there  was 
continued  fighting  with  the  sorely-pressed  and  retreat- 
ing Union  army,  culminating  at  last  in  the  awful  battle 
of  Malvern  Hill. 

This  was  the  last  and  bloodiest  in  the  list  of  those 
tragic  scenes  that  wound  up  the  second  great  attempt 
to  take  the  rebel  capital. 

The  rebel  army  was  here  repulsed  with  terrible 
slaughter ;  and  that  of  the  Union  gained  a  secure  posi- 
tion, where  they  were  protected  by  their  gunboats,  but 
at  the  cost  of  thousands  of  precious  lives,  and  millions 
of  dollars'  worth  of  ordnance  and  army  stores,  that  were 
burnt,  or  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 

They  had  indeed,  though  exhibiting  the  most  heroic 
courage  and  endurance,  met  with  a  sad  succession  of 
disasters.  But  none  among  them  all  seems  sadder  or 
more  huiniliatiiig  than  this,  —  that,  by  the  stern  neces- 


824      THE  KEBEL  GENEEAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

sities  of  their  forced  and  hasty  retreat,  they  were  obliged 
to  leave  thousands  of  their  sick  and  wounded  men  in 
the  hands  of  those  whose  tenderest  mercies  to  them 
proved  to  be  only  refined  cruelty. 

Following  in  the  track  of  this  wide-spread  wreck, 
ruin,  and  anguish  for  miles  and  miles,  Catharine's  heart 
bled  so  much  for  the  woes  of  her  country  and  her  kin- 
dred, that  her  own  troubles  seemed  as  nothing  in  the  com- 
parison :  yet  it  was  with  a  heavy  heart  that  she  turned 
back,  footsore  and  weary,  sick  and  disheartened,  with 
the  rebel  hosts  who  were  returning  to  Eichmond. 
Her  hope  of  in  some  way  falling  into  Union  hands  had 
vanished ;  and  there  had  been  no  opportunity  for  escape. 
So  again  she  seemed  obliged  to  yield  to  her  destiny. 

But  she  was  now  completely  worn  out  by  the  mental 
anguish,  as  well  as  the  physical  hardships,  she  had  en- 
dured. No  hope  of  meeting  and  caring  for  her  brother 
cheered  her  on.  Her  strength  was  all  gone.  Her  spirit 
was  paralyzed  by  the  chill  h^nd  of  despair.  She  was 
continually  reprimanded  for  lagging  behind  the  troops, 
but  was  refused  a  ride  in  the  wagons ;  and  at  last,  com- 
pletely exliausted,  she  sunk  down  fainting  by  the  road- 
side. 

It  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  men  and  boys  to  drop 
out  of  the  ranks  in  this  way ;  yet  they  were  generally 
looked  after,  and  cared  for :  but  the  regiment  to  which 
she  was  now  attached  had  taken  no  such  deep  interest 
in  her  as  had  that  of  Col.  Elliot ;  and  now,  in  their 
eagerness  to  get  back  to  E-ichmond,  they  passed  on  with- 
out noticing  or  caring  for  her,  as  did  all  the  others  be- 
loncrino;  to  the  same  division. 

Dead  men,  dying  men,  and  wounded  men  and  boys, 
were  too  common  a  sight  on  that  march  to  attract  much 


C^:^vt^s^;> 


THE  MEMORABLE  SEVEN  DAYS.  325 

attention  ;  yet  the  slender,  graceful  form,  perfect,  marble- 
like features,  and  bright  auburn  curls  of  poor  Catha- 
rine did  attract  the  attention  of  tlic  next  party  wlio 
came  along,  —  a  general  officer  on  horseback,  who  had 
left  his  staff  behind  him.  He  halted  suddenly,  loolced 
at  her  a  moment,  evidently  in  great  surprise  ;  then,  dis- 
mounting in  haste,  threw  his  bridle  to  his  black  ser- 
vant, and  went  up  to  where  she  was  lying.  He  bent 
over  the  inanimate  form  with  his  dark  face  growing  paler 
every  moment;  smoothed  back  the  bright  curly  hair 
from  which  the  old  hat  had  fallen,  and  then  took  off  his 
glove,  and  felt  the  pulse  that  was  still  faintly  throb- 
bing. 

His  color  came  back  when  he  found  that  life  was  not 
extinct ;  and,  kneeling  down,  he  put  some  strong  stimu- 
lus to  her  nose,  that  was  the  means  of  her  revival. 
Opening  her  eyes  at  last,  she  fixed  them,  dreamily  at 
first,  then  consciously,  upon  the  deeply-anxious  face  of 
Gen.  Atherton.  He  raised  her  up  partially.  For  a 
minute  they  looked  in  each  others  eyes:  and  then,  when 
she  saw  that  she  was  recognized,  and  remembered  their 
respective  positions,  the  faint  color  stole  back  to  her 
cheek ;  and,  turning  her  face  away,  she  burst  into  tears. 

"  0  Catharine  ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  is  it  thus  we  meet, 
among  these  bloody,  heart-rending  scenes,  —  in  this 
miserable  garb,  dying  by  the  roadside?  Pray  tell  me 
what  it  all  means." 

"Oh!  not  here, —  not  now;  for  I  am  so  weary  —  so 
wretched  —  so  miserable  !  Pray  go  —  go  away,  and  let 
me  die  in  peace.  It  is  better  so  —  oh !  so  much  better — • 
for  us  both,"  she  murmured ;  and  again  she  went  off 
into  a  dead  faint. 


28 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

THE   EEBEL  GEXEEAL.  —  HOIilE   AT    LAST. 

I  HEN  Catharine  again  opened  her  eyes  con- 
sciously, it  was  to  find  herself  in  a  darkened 
yet  elegantly-furnished  apartment,  in  a  bed 
hung  with  gorgeous  crimson  draperies,  and 
with  every  refinement  of  wealth,  taste,  and  luxury 
around  her. 

It  was  some  time  before  she  could  persuade  herself 
that  this  change  from  the  horrors  of  the  camp,  the  hos- 
pital, and  the  battle-fields,  which  began  to  come  back  to 
her,  were  not  all  the  wild  phantasmagoria  of  a  dream. 
For  some  time  she  gazed  around  with  a  listless,  dreamy, 
languor,  hardly  conscious  that  she  was  awake,  yet 
wondering  where  she  was.  It  was  only  when  she  at- 
tempted to  rise  that  she  became  conscious  of  her  extreme 
weakness,  and  inability  to  help  herself.  The  m^otion  at 
once  brought  a  sable  attendant  to  her  side ;  in  whom, 
to  her  extreme  surprise,  she  recognized  dear  old  Aunt 
Dinah. 

^'0  aunty!"  she  exclaimed  in  a  feeble  tone,  '-'how 
glad  I  am  to  see  you  ! "  and,  with  tears  of  joy  filling  her 
eyes,  she  drew  the  kind  black  face  down  to  her,  and 
kissed  it,  as  she  received  a  compassionate  motherly  kiss 
in  return. 

826 


THE  REBEL  GENERAL.  327 

"If  missis  glad,  Diuali  be  boiy  much  gladder,"  slie 
returned  ;  "  for  she  bin  terrible  'fraid  de  poor  leetle  dear 
neber  come  out  on't." 

"  Out  of  what,  Dinah  ?  " 

"Don't  missis  know  she  bin  in  a  kinder  faint  like^  dis 
tu  tree  days  ?  " 

"No;  I  don't  know  any  thing  about  it.  I  was  so 
tired  and  worn  out,  and  my  head  swam,  and  every  thing 
grew  dark  ;  and  I  dreamed  —  I  saw  "  —  and  here  the 
thought  of  Gen.  Atherton  came  like  a  dark  cloud  over 
her  memory ;  and  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
and  wept  silently.  It  must  be  so,  she  thought.  It  was 
not  all  a  dream :  she  had  seen  Gen.  Atherton  some- 
where. 

"Dinah,  where  am  I?"  she  suddenly  exclaimed,  un- 
covering her  face,  and  looking  around  the  room.  "'  This 
is  not  Mrs.  Hunter's ;  but  you  are  here.  Where  are  she 
and  the  children  ?  " 

"Dey  no  come  home  yet.  Dinah  keep  house  well 
nuff.     She  no  'fraid  ob  de  Yankees." 

"But  this  is  none  of  Mrs.  Hunters  rooms,  Dinah!" 

"  Laws,  chile  !  don't  worry  'bout  dat.  Dinah  tink 
missis  got  grand  house  o'  her  own  dis  time.  Take  a 
leetle  o'  dis  doctor  stuff,  darlin',  an'  go  to  sleep  now." 

"  If  3-0U  knew  how  miserable  I  was,  Dinah,  you  would 
not  plague  me  so,"  she  sobbed  with  fretful  weakness, 
as  the  truth  began  to  dawn  upon  her  clouded  mind. 

"  Dere,  dere,  don't  cry !  He  feel  terrible,  tu,  an'  walk 
de  room,  an'  cry,  Dinah  tink,  when  nobody  see  'im ;  an' 
Dinah  no  ondcrstand  it  one  bit." 

"  JTe  is  here,  then?"  said  Catharine  eagerly. 

"  Laws  yes,  chile !  He  back  an'  forth,  here  an'  to 
Ilichmond,  'most  ebery  day.  Dut  missis  needn't  see 
him  'thout  she  wants  tu." 


328      THE  REBEL  GEXERAl'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"  But  I  do  want  to  see  him  now.  Raise  me  up,  Dinali, 
and  put  that  shawl  around  me,"  she  exclaimed  with  a 
desperate  sort  of  courage.  "  There,  that  is  riglit ;  thank 
you.  Now,  please  go  and  tell  him  I  would  like  to  see 
him." 

We  may  be  sure  that  the  general  waited  for  no 
second  summons  ;  for  Catharine  had  lain,  like  a  pale, 
storm-beaten  lily,  in  a  kind  of  stupor  ever  since  she 
had  been  brought  to  Atlierton  ;  and  for  a  time  there 
had  been  faint  hope  of  her  recovery.  Tliere  was  a  com- 
plete prostration  of  the  vital  energies,  the  doctor  said  j 
from  which  it  would  take  her  some  time  to  recover,  if 
she  did  at  all. 

So  it  was  with  eager,  trembling  joy  that  she  had 
come  out  of  that  critical  state,  as  well  as  fear  of  a  re- 
lapse, that  Gen.  Atlierton  presented  himself  at  her 
bidding.  He  looked  pale  and  careworn  ;  and  his  face 
presented  traces  of  strong  emotion  as  he  came  up  to  the 
side  of  the  bed,  took  the  offered  hand,  and  pressed  a 
kiss  upon  the  fair,  pale  brow. 

"Did  3^ou  really  want  to  see  me,  dear  Catharine  ?  "  he 
said. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  in  a  faint  yet  excited  tone  ;  "  but 
first  tell  me  where  I  am." 

'•You  are  at  home,  darling,  —  on  Athcrton  I'lanta- 
tion." 

'^  And  Dinah  "  — 

''I  brought  her  from  Eichmond,  that  you  might  have 
some  one  you  knew,  and  who  also  knew  our  relations, 
around  you  when  you  revived,  to  make  you  feci  more  at 
home  here.  But  you  are  very  pale  and  weak.  I  fear 
you  are  exhausting  yourself.  And,  much  as  I  long  for 
your  confidence,  I  can  wait  until  you  are  better  able  to 
give  it." 


THE  REBEL  GENERAL.  329 

"  Ko,  no :  I  want  you  to  know  all  now.  And,  first, 
do  you  believe  what  I  told  you  in  the  Libby 
Prison  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Catharine.  In  anticipation  of  your  trial,  I 
sent  a  trusty  messenger  to  Philip's  plantation,  and 
ascertained  all  the  facts.  And  besides,  you  may  not 
know  that  it  was  because^  of  that  villain  Sweep's  con- 
fessions that  you  were  set  at  liberty." 

"  Indeed !  Then  you  will  believe  me  when  I  tell  you 
why  I  am  here  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  shall.  In  all  our  acquaintance  I  have 
never  found  cause  to  doubt  your  word :  yet  I  must  tell 
you  that  the  knowledge  that  you  had  left  the  prison, 
and  again  disappeared,  has  given  me  the  deepest 
anxiety ;  and  that  this  exhibition  of  your  want  of  trust 
and  confidence,  in  neglecting  to  come  or  send  to  me  for 
assistance,  has  deeply  pained  me.'^ 

"  I  could  not  help  it,  general,  —  indeed  I  could  not,  — 
at  first ;  and  afterwards  a  feeling  of —  of —  I  can't  explain 
it  to  you,  —  prevented  my  doing.so  ;  "  and  the  faint,  fit- 
ful color  flashed  over  her  face,  as  she  said  it. 

"  I  can  understand  it,  Catharine,  without  an  explana- 
tion," he  returned  with  a  sigh ;  "  and  some  day,  when 
you  are  stronger  and  less  afraid  of  me,  you  shall  tell 
me  all  about  it." 

She  would  have  gone  on  ;  but  he  would  not  allow  it: 
so,  kissing  her  tenderly,  he  went  out,  and  sent  in  Dinah. 
His  forbearance,  seeming  trust,  and  regard  for  her 
feelings,  were  not  lost  upon  the  poor,  weary  invalid :  so, 
with  a  little  less  dread  of  him  and  her  future,  she  soon 
forgot  self,  and  dropped  off  into  a  refreshing  slumber, 
that  seemed  to  do  her  a  world  of  good. 

He  came  back  the  next  morning,  delighted  to  find  her 

28* 


830      THE  REBEL  GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

so  much  better,  and  then  listened  with  eager  interest 
to  her  story  of  her  coming  out  of  prison  ;  her  vain 
search  for  f.  refuge ;  her  meeting  the  woman,  and  es- 
Cf.pe  fj:m  the  odious  Blondel;  her  joining  Col.  Elliot's 
party,  and  adventures  in  the  camp  and  upon  the  vari- 
ous fields  of  battle. 

"  You  seem  doomed  to  suffer,  and  meet  with  many 
strange  adventures,''  he  said.  '•  But,  my  dear,  you  should 
have  applied  to  the  authorities  for  help  ;  and,  at  the 
worst,  gone  back  to  the  prison  for  shelter." 

"  I  had  no  money  to  pay  for  a  ride :  the  streets  were 
full  of  rude  soldiery ;  and  I  knew  not  what  to  do." 

"  I  tremble  even  now  to  think  of  what  might  have 
been  your  fate.  But,  when  you  met  Col.  Elliot,  he 
would  have  protected  you,  had  you  told  him  all,  until 
you  could  have  come  or  sent  to  me." 

"I  did  not  even  think  of  it  then;  and  I  don't  know 
as  I  should  if  I  had,  I  was  so  frightened  and  disheart- 
ened by  my  repeated  repulses  from  those  upon  whom  I 
thought  I  had  a  better  claim.  He  was  hurrying,  too, 
to  the  field  of  battle  ;  and  want  of  time  and  my  ques- 
tionable garb  and  strange  story  would  most  likely  have 
made  even  him  doubt,  and  cast  me  off  at  once.  I  be- 
lieve now,  however,  that  there  was  a  hand  of  Providence 
in  my  going  as  I  did  upon  the  battle-fields.  It  was  the 
means,  under  God,  of  saving  Col.  Elliot's  life,  and  per- 
haps that  of  my  brother  Theodore  and  others." 

"  It  may  be  so ;  but,  Catharine,  after  you  had  come 
to  the  army,  why  were  you  willing  to  expose  your  life  to 
a  thousand  dangers,  your  character  to  the  greatest  mis- 
constructions, and  even  face  death  itself,  rather  than 
come  to  the  heart  that  beats  for  you  alone,  the  arms 
that  would  so  gladly  and  lovingly  infold  you  as  my 
bride  ?  "  said  he  reproachfully. 


THE  r.EBEL   GENERAL.  331 

'•'  If  I  was  your  bride,  it  was  an  unacknowletlgecl  one. 
And  how  should  I  know  that  you  would  acknowledge 
my  right  to  your  protection  before  that  army  and  the 
world  ?  "  said  she  bhishingly. 

"  You  could  not  doubt  it,  Catharine." 

"But  I  did  doubt  it,  —  coming,  too,  as  I  did  in  so  hum- 
ble and  questionable  a  guise.  Delicacy  forbade  my  com- 
ing to  you,  and  urging  such  a  claim  ;  and  that,  with 
many  other  feelings  you  cannot  understand,  impelled  me 
into  the  current  that  took  me  to  the  hospital  and  the 
field  of  battle.  If,  when  there,  and  agonized  by  thoughts 
of  my  brother's  danger,  an  inexpressible  longing  for  home 
and  friends  made  mo  forget  for  a  time  my  promise  to 
you,  in  a  yain  eifort  to  escape  to  the  Union  lines,  I  trust 
I  shall  be  forgiv^en." 

"  Are,  then,  the  home  and  friends  you  have  left  at  the 
North  still  so  much  dearer  than  every  thing  the  South 
has  to  offer,  my  dear  Catharine?" 

"  Oh  !  I  cannot  tell  you  how  very  dear  they  have 
seemed  ever  since  that  awful  night,  when  I  found  and 
parted  from  my  brother;  how  I  think  of  them,  and 
dream  of  them,  and  long  for  them,  day -and  night,  as  I 
never  in  all  my  life  have  done  before.  And  sometimes 
I  feel  as  if  I  should  die  of  this  longing  and  homesick- 
ness if  I  cannot  see  them.  0  Gen.  Atherton  !  let  me 
agk,  —  k't  me  beg  of  you  to  release  me  from  that  fear- 
ful promise,  and  allow  me  to  go  home.  I  have  been 
nothing  but  a  trouble  and  a  burden  to  you,  from  the 
first :  you  would  be  a  thousand  times  better  off  without 
me.  If  I  stay,  I  cannot  fulHl  that  solemn  promise  to 
love  you  as  a  wife  should.  If  I  could  go,  I  should  re- 
spect and  honor  you,  if  nothing  more.  Oh,  I  implore 
you  to  release,  and  lot  me  go  !  even  though  I  come 
back  again,"  she  said  in  a  deeply-agitated  voice. 


832      THE  EEBEL   GENERAL's  LOTAL  BEIDE. 

He,  too,  was  strongly  moved.  He  gazed  upon  her 
flushed,  imploring  countenance  for  a  moment  with  a 
pitiful,  yearning  tenderness,  then  turned  awa}^,  and  be- 
gan to  walk  the  room.  At  last  he  came  back  to  her,  and 
said  in  a  tremulous  tone,  as  he  smoothed  her  short, 
silky  hair,  — 

"  Catharine,  did  you  realize,  even  imperfectly,  how 
very  dear  you  are  to  me,  —  how  far  above  all  my  earthly 
possessions  I  prize  you,  or  the  extent  of  the  sacrifice 
you  require  at  my  hands,  you  would  never  have  made 
this  request;  yet,  as  you  have  done  so,  I  will  give  it 
due  consideration.  At  present,  you  are  in  no  condition 
to  go  home,  or  anywhere  else ;  and  I  want  you  to  con- 
sider this  as  your  home,  —  at  least,  until  you  can  leave 
it  in  safety.  In  consideration  of  your  present  feelings, 
and  also  because  my  conscience  hardly  acquits  me  for 
the  way  in  which  it  was  obtained,  I  shall  never,  you 
may  feel  assured,  enforce,  against  your  wishes,  a  hus- 
band's claim  upon  3'ou.  For  the  present,  I  ask  only  the 
privileges  of  a  friend  or  elder  brother,  which,  I  trust, 
you  will  accord  to  me.  As  yet  we  are  almost  strangers 
to  each  other.  I  hope  your  feelings  towards  me  will 
change  upon  a  better  acquaintance.  After  the  toils  and 
dangers  of  the  past  few  months,  I  am  having  a  short 
furlough ;  and  I  think  I  cannot  employ  it  to  better 
advantage  than  in  looking  after  the  affairs  of  my 
plantation,  and  at  the  same  time  cultivating  more 
friendly  relations  with  one  who  has  the  power  to  make 
or  mar  the  happiness  of  my  whole  future  life.  Allow 
me  the  privileges  of  friendship,  dear  Catharine,  to  con- 
verse and  associate  with  you  freely,  to  nurse  3'ou  back 
to  health,  to  familiarize  you  with  my  people  and  my 
surroundings.     And  if,  after  all,  you  prefer   your  own 


THE  REBEL   GE^rERAL.  333 

people  to  mine ;  if  you  feel  thut  you  still  love  another 
too  well  truthfully  to  perform  your  vows  to  me,  I  sol- 
emnly promise  to  let  you  go  home,  and  hereafter  take 
measures  to  break  the  tie  that  binds  us  together,  if  it 
also  break  my  heart.  Shall  it  be  so,  dear  Catharine  ?  " 
he  continued  in  a  tone  of  deep  emotion. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  affected  to  tears  by  the  unexpected 
generosity  that  promised  a  present  reprieve,  if  not  a 
future  emancipation,  from  what  she  had  previously  re- 
garded as  an  intolerable  bondage. 

She  knew  very  well  that  he  was  a  man  whose  word 
was  as  good  as  his  bond,  even  though  he  was  sometimes 
ruled  almost  wholly  by  ambition   and  its  political  neces- 
sities.    She  could  not  help  seeing  in   every  word,  look, 
and  tone  how  very  dear  she  was   to  him,  and,  of  course, 
how  great  to  him  would  be  the  sacrifice   if  compelled 
hereafter  to  resign  her  forever.     So,  woman  like,  she  be- 
gan to  pity  him.     If  ever  a  man  set  himself  resolutely  to 
the  task  of  winning  a  woman's  heart,  it  was  Gen.  Ather- 
ton  now.     The  promise  had  been  drawn  from  him  by  her 
tears,  and  too  evident  dread  of  him ;  but,  once  given,  he 
felt  that  he  must  abide  by  it.     He  felt,  too,  that  this 
promise  had  brought  him  down  to  the  level  of  an  humble 
suppliant  for  her  favor.     But,  while  regretting  this,  he 
did  not  know  that  he  made  himself  much  more  lovable 
in  Catharine's  eyes,  than  when  his  display  of  a  domi- 
neering and  determined  feeling  of  ownership,  suggest- 
ing thoughts  of  slavery,  had  aroused  a  spirit  of  resistance 
in  her  proud,  rebellious  heart.     Having  no  special  dis- 
ease, she  improved  rapidly  under  Dinah's   careful  nurs- 
ing  and   the    general's    special    attentions.     The   color 
came  back  to  her  pale  cheek,  and  the  light  to  her  eyes  • 
though  the  longing  for  home  and  mother,   and   espe- 


•334      THE  REBEL  GENEEAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

cially  to  kno\y  Theodore's  fate,  devoured  her  continually. 
Dinah,  who,  it  may  be  remembered,  was  a  witness  of  their 
marriage,  having  been  charged  to  be  silent  regarding 
it  then,  bad  sense  enough  not  to  bother  Catharine  with 
questions  now;  though  she  no  doubt  wondered  over 
many  things.  To  her  it  was  a  labor  of  love  to  wait  on 
Catharine,  who  had  completely  won  her  affection  ;  and, 
when  not  thus  engaged,  it  was  her  greatest  delight  to 
talk  over  her  miraculous  adventures,  virtues,  and  perfec- 
tions, and  sound  her  praises  to  a  select  audience  in  the 
kitchen,  who  were  her  old  acquaintances,  and  to  whom 
she  could  enlarge  upon  the  facts  in  the  most  glowing 
terms,  without  the  fear  of  contradiction.  Dinah  had,  it 
seemed,  been  left  in  charge  of  Mrs.  Hunter's  establish- 
ment in  Richmond;  and  it  was  by  accident  alone  that 
she  and  Csesar  happened  to  be  away  at  the  time  Cath- 
arine knocked  in  vain  for  admittance. 

When  not  obliged  to  go  to  E-ichmond,  the  general 
spent  his  mornings  in  writing,  and  overlooking  his 
estate,  — taking  Catharine  out  to  ride  with  him  as  soon 
as  she  was  well  enough,  that  he  might  show  lier  the 
most  beautiful  views,  and  the  improvements  he  had 
planned,  and  make  her  acquainted  with  his  surround- 
ings. His  afternoons  and  evenings,  too,  when  not  oth- 
erwise engaged,  were  always  spent  in  her  society ;  and 
it  was  very  evident  that  he  meant  to  make  the  most  of 
his  time. 

His  plantation  was  situated  upon  the  James  E-iver, 
upon  the  magnificent  scenery  of  which  she  was  never 
tired  of  gazing.  The  mansion  vied  With  Hunter  House 
in  its  bygone  splendor,  as  well  as  its  antiquity;  but 
there  had  been  additions,  improvements,  and  furnishings 
of  a  later  date,  that  made  it  much  more  acceptable  to 


HOME  AT   LAST.  335 

modern  tastes,  and  left  no  reasonable  wish  or  necessity 
unprovided  for.  It  liad  a  large  and  choice  library,  a 
splendid  collection  of  rare  pictures,  with  many  other 
choice  specimens  of  art  and  taste  to  please  the  eye  and 
entertain  and  improve  the  mind  and  heart.  Yes, 
Atherton  Place  was  beautiful;  in  fact,  just  the  spot 
where  one  could  contentedly  dream  away  a  lifetime,  if  — 
and  there  Catharine  generally  wound  up  her  reflections, 
leaving  the  sentence  unfinished,  and  sighing  over  a  lost 
hope. 

We  have  said  before  that  Gen.  Atherton,  for  a  man  of 
his  age,  was  strongly  attractive  ;  that  his  voice  was 
deep-toned  and  melodious ;  that  his  eye  had  a  peculiarly 
magnetic  power  over  Catharine,  from  which  she  felt  im- 
pelled to  fly.  And  now  she  was  wholly  surrendered  to 
this  influence,  without  the  power  to  fly. 

Hard  and  stern  as  he  sometimes  appeared,  there  was 
really  a  great  deal  of  poetry  and  romance  in  his  compo- 
sition, and  genuine  feeling,  earnestness,  and  eloquence 
in  his  conversation.  And  now,  as  he  explained  to  her 
the  beautiful  paintings,  and  specimens  of  art,  he  had  gath- 
ered in  his  own,  as  well  as  foreign  lands  5  or  read  to  her 
from  his  favorite  authors ;  or  talked  with  her  of  his  own 
hopes-  and  plans,  of  the  beautiful  scenery,  or  the  great 
issues  at  stake  in  the  past,  present,  and  future  of  the  coun- 
try ;  or  joined  his  deep-toned  voice  with  hers  in  the  ren- 
dering of  some  grand  harmony, —  she  could  not  help  yield- 
ing to  him  the  tribute  of  admiration,  and  appreciation  of 
his  fine  talents,  if  not  tliat  of  the  love  he  so  earnestly 
hoped  to  inspire.  As  a  father,  brother,  or  friend,  with  no 
special  claim  upon  her,  she  felt  as  if  she  could  have  given 
him  the  tribute  of  an  affectionate  regard ;  and,  even  as  a 
lover  or  husband,  he  would  not  have  been  as  objection- 


336      THE  EEBEL  GEXEEAL's  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

able  as  some  who  had  sought  her  favor,  but  for  his  devo- 
tion to  the  cause  of  the  rebellion. 

Upon  this  subject  they  seldom  argued  now^  as  she  felt 
as  if  it  were  of  no  earthly  use.  She  believed  that  he  now 
at  heart  as  bitterly  regretted  the  steps  the  South  had 
taken  as  she  could  do.  That  he,  and  in  fact  the  whole 
South,  were  deej^ly  disappointed,  —  not  only  in  the  failure 
of  the  Democracy  of  the  Xorth  to  support  their  cause,  but 
also  in  the  powerful  resistance  they  had  met  from  the 
Federal  Government.  Slie  knew  that  he  was  sick  of 
bloodshed  and  such  fearful  sacrifice  of  human  life,  and,  in 
spite  of  present  dear-bought  successes,  doubtful  of  the 
final  issue  of  the  contest.  She  knew,  too,  that  his  great 
misleading  passion  —  a  towering  ambition  —  had  thus 
far  been  deeply  disappointed;  for  he  had  found  other 
men,  plenty  of  them,  equally  ambitious  with  himself. 
With  more  tact  and  subtlety,  or  ability  to  please  the  mul- 
titude, and  propitiate  favor  in  influential  quarters,  they 
had  supplanted,  cast  him  into  the  shade,  and  more  than 
rivalled  him  in  the  regard  of  the  administration,  and 
thus  attained  to  greater  preferment  and  power. 

The  supreme  ruler  of  the  Southern  people  saw  in  him 
a  talented  and  dangerous  rival,  eager  to  distinguish 
himself,  and,  if  possible,  get  the  reins  of  government  into 
his  own  guiding  hands  ;  so  that  chief  ruler  felt  it  to  be 
a  matter  of  vital  interest  to  himself  to  prevent  Gen.  Ath- 
erton,  in  one  way  and  another,  from  attaining  to  any 
prominent  distinction. 

Catharine  knew  that  he  felt  this  keenly,  but,  from  the 
power  of  surrounding  circumstances,  was  unable  to  help 
it.  And  from  this  cause,  if  there  were  no  other,  he  in- 
wardly hated  the  administration,  and  the  way  in  which 
they  had  conducted  the  affairs  of  the  Confederacy.     She 


HOME  AT  LAST.  337 

miglit  have  taunted  him  about  the  splendid  eminence 
to  which  he  had  promised  to  raise  her :  but  she  cared 
nothing  for  the  eminence  j  and  she  was  really  too  kind- 
hearted,  and  too  much  of  a  Christian  in  spirit,  to  wish  to 
tidd  bitterness  to  the  discontent  that  she  knew  was 
gnawing  at  his  heart.  Perhaps,  too,  in  their  present  re- 
lations, she  thought  it  would  be  unadvisable  to  recrimi- 
nate and  anger  him. 

He  had,  besides  these,  other  serious  causes  of  discon- 
tent.    His  slaves,  thrilled  by  the  tocsin  of  war,  and  the 
hope  of  freedom,  were  escaping  in  scores;  and  this,  to  a 
born  slaveholder,  was  a  constant  source  of  trouble  and 
irritation,  in  which  he  knew  she  could  not  sympathize. 
From  all  appearances,  she  judged  that  he  was  kinder  and 
more  just  and  generous  than  most  slave-owners  were  with, 
their  slaves;  that  he  furnished  them  ^vith  better  fare, 
and  neater  cabins,  demanded  fewer  hours  of  labor,  and 
allowed  them  many  more  privileges ;  reasoning  truly  that 
he  was  better  served  in  return  than  those  who  treated 
them    more  unkindly.     But   however  indulgent   he    or 
others  might  be,  these  people  felt  as  if  it  were  slavery 
still.     Their  djeams  of  liberty  included  an  easy,  happy 
life,  free  from  toil  and  care  and  bondage.     They  were 
wild  and  unreal,  and  they  were  sure  to  find  it  so  in  the 
end ;  but  still  they  preferred  to  dare  the  risk  of  pain, 
privation,  recapture,  and  death  itself,  to  remaining  longer 
in  the  galling  shackles  of  bondage. 

As  Catharine  mingled  among  those  who  were  left, 

held  mostly  by  weakness,  cowardice,  or  the  strong  and 
endearing  bonds  of  love,  —  she  could  not  help  feeling  how 
much  better  it  would  be  for  both  master  and  slave,  if 
they  were  all  free  men  and  women  ;  allowed  to  live  on 
the  estate,  serving  him  more  faithfully  and  gratefully, 


29 


838      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL'S   LOYAE  BRIDE. 

from  the  knowledge  that  their  posterity  would  not  wear 
the  yoke  of  slavery.  She  told  their  owner  so  one  morn- 
ing, when  they  were  out  for  a  ride  around  the  plautcV 
tion,  and  used  her  best  arguments  to  support  her  position. 

"  I  don't  know  but  you  are  right/"'  he  said  after  a  long 
pause,  and  with  a  keen,  searching  glance  ;  "  and  that  you 
might  make  a  practical  abolitionist  of  me  if  you  tried. 
There  are  some  things  we  cannot  understand  until  we 
feel  them ;  and  this  is  one.  I  never  knew  what  it  was  to 
be  in  bonds,  fettered  even  by  a  rash  promise,  until  the 
past  few  weeks.  And  I  assure  you,  that,  although  they 
are  invisible  to  the  outward  eye,  I  find  them  inexpressi- 
bly galling.  I  cannot  blame  the  slaves  much,  if  they  feel 
as  I  do,  for  snapping  their  bonds,  as  Samson  did  his, 
and  setting  law,  gospel,  and  conscience  at  defiance.  Se- 
riously, Catharine,  I  cannot  much  longer  endure  this 
thraldom.  Every  strong  impulse  of  my  soul  cries  out 
against  it  every  hour ;  and  every  hour  is  a  torture  until  I 
know  what  the  future  has  in  store  for  me.  I  could  not 
bear  the  thought  of  separation ;  and  yet  every  hour  spent 
in  your  societ}'-  has  only  made  you  dearer  to  my  heart, 
and  the  thought  of  a  future  parting  harder  to  bear.  Oh  ! 
tell  me  now  honestly,  my  darling,  whether  I  have  made 
myself  sufficiently  tolerable  in  your  eyes  for  you  to  en- 
dure the  thought  of  being  presented  to  the  world  as  my 
wife  !  '^  he  said  in  a  pleading  tone. 

Catharine  had  been  expecting  this  ordeal ;  but  it  came 
upon  her  unexpectedly  now.  The  warm  blood  flashed 
over  her  face  in  an  instant,  and  then  rushed  back  to  her 
heart,  leaving  it  pale  as  ashes ;  and  the  hand  he  had 
clasped  trembled  like  a  leaf  in  his  own. 

"  Does  the  thought  distress  you  still?  "  he  asked  ten- 
derly, yet  in  a  disappointed  tone,  when  he  found  she  did 


HOME  AT   LAST.  339 

not  reply.  "I  liaj  hoped  that  hy  this  time  you  had  be- 
come accustomed  to  it  —  and  me.  I  am  going  down  the 
river  to-day,"  he  continued,  "  to  reconnoitre,  and  meet 
Gen.  Lee ;  and  to-morrow  or  next  day  I  shall  return,  on  my 
way  to  Kichmond.  I  entreat  jou.  then,  dear  Catharine,  to 
be  ready  to  decide  whetlier  you  will  go  there  with  me  to 
be  presented  to  the  world  as  my  bride,  or  break  my  heart 
by  asking  to  be  transmitted  through  the  lines.  In  either 
case  you  shall  have  a  safe  conduct  and  a  free  choice ;  by 
which  I  feel  bound  to  abide.     Will  you  be  ready  then  ?  " 

"  I  will  try  to  be,"  she  faltered,  as  he  helped  her  from 
the  carriage,  and  bade  her  an  affectionate  '•  Good-by  ! '' 

He  left  the  mansion  on  horseback  soon  afterwards,  at- 
tended by  his  black  servant ;  and  Catharine  was  left  to 
her  own  reflections.  We  can  very  well  imagine  that  they 
were  not  pleasant  ones,  and  that  the  questions  she  had 
to  ask  herself  were  hard  to  decide.  They  w^ere  questions 
of  duty,  not  inclination,  as  that  would  have  led  her  at 
once  through  the  lines.  She  did  not  for  an  instant  doubt 
his  regard  for  her ;  for  his  every  word,  look,  and  tone  de- 
clared it.  But  he  was  an  enemy  to  her  country.  He  had 
gone  now  to  hatch  treason  against  the  government.  To  be 
his  ^^^fe,  was  affording  aid  and  comfort  to  the  enemy,  —  was 
it  not  ?  —  the  greatest  he  could  receive,  he  had  given  her 
to  understand  ;  and  would  she  not  be  justified  in  refusing 
it  ?  Ay  :  but  was  not  the  solemn  marriage-vow  she  had 
pronounced  a  higher  law  than  that,  —  one  of  God's  own 
institution,  and  more  binding  than  any  she  owed  her 
country  ?  In  his  pity  and  forbearance,  as  well  as  the 
strong  hope  of  winning  her  love,  he  had  promised  to  give 
her  leave  to  break  or  evade  it.  But  did  that  abrogate  her 
own  solemn  promise  to  love,  honor,  and  obey  this  man 
till  death  ?     Yet  she  felt  that  she  had  promised  what 


3-10   THE  EEBEL  GENERAL' S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

slie  could  not  perform.  She  liked  liim  well  enough,  but 
knew  that  she  did  not  love  him  ;  and  she  felt  then  as  if 
she  never  could.  And  would  it  not  be  a  greater  sin  to 
live  with  him,  acting  a  lie,  than  any  she  would  commit 
in  leaving  him  ? 

These  were  some  of  the  questions  conscience  pro- 
pounded, which  she  pondered  sleeplessly,  but  was  far 
from  deciding.  Dinah  had  gone  back  to  Eichmond  to 
prepare  for  Mrs.  Hunter's  expected  return:  the  other 
servants  were  comparative  strangers  ;  so  she  had  none  but 
God  and  her  own  conscience  to  consult  in  this  trj^ng 
emergency.  She  laid  her  case  before  that  dread  tribunal, 
but  could  cret  no  clear  indications  from  the  inward  monitor 
regarding  the  true  path  of  duty.  Her  mind  veered  from 
one  side  of  the  question  to  the  other,  like  a  vane  in  a 
gale  of  wind ;  and  the  eager  longing  for  home  and  friends, 
and  rest  and  freedom,  each  hour  grew  stronger  in  her 
heart. 

The  first  day  passed  slowl}'-  away,  and  the  second  still 
more  wearily  and  anxiously ;  but  still  he  did  not  come. 
The  third  at  last  dawned  upon  the  weary  watcher,  and 
dragged  its  slow  length  along.  She  tried  to  beguile  the 
time  by  books  and  music  and  art;  but  their  illusions 
were  but  momentary.  They  could  not  distract  her  at- 
tention from  the  decision  she  was  houiiy  expecting  to  be 
called  upon  to  make. 

It  was  about  the  last  of  July ;  and  the  weather  was 
very  warm  and  sultry.  Feeling  weary,  languid,  and  op- 
pressed, not  only  by  the  heat,  but  her  own  foreboding 
fancies,  she  wandered  away  from  the  mansion  -some  time 
in  the  afternoon  with  her  sketch-book  to  beguile  the 
hours  of  their  tediousness.  The  place  she  sought  was  a 
rocky  ledge  near  the  main  road,  overhung  by  giant  trees, 


HOME   AT  LAST.  341 

the  growth  of  centuries.  This  ledge  overlooked  a  liigh, 
arched  stone  bridge,  tliat  spanned  a  beautiful  and  rapid 
stream,  and  commanded  many  other  bright  glimpses  of 
bold  and  beautiful  scenery.  This  stream  often  overflowed 
its  banks,  and  had  a  deep  and  dangerous  current  that 
made  its  way  over  the  rocks  to  tlie  dam  and  mills  and 
mightier  stream  below.  She  had  been  there  twice  before 
with  Gen.  Atherton,  never  ceasing  to  admire  the  bold 
scenery,  wliich  she  had  resolved  to  sketch  that  day.  So, 
after  reaching  the  place,  and  cooling  off  in  tlie  shade  of 
the  splendid  trees,  she  gained  tlie  most  desirable  position, 
and  began  her  work.  She  drew  tlie  outlines  of  her 
sketch  with  a  masterly  hand.  Then  she  began  to  fill  in 
with  the  bold  rocks,  the  giant  trees,  the  high,  arched 
bridge,  half  in  sunlight,  half  in  shadow,  the  steep  bluff, 
covered  with  clumps  of  laurel,  wild  roses,  and  other 
shrubbery.  Then  she  endeavored  to  portray  the  deeply- 
shadowed  stream,  with  a  few  bright  glimpses  of  sunshine 
playing  upon  the  bright  ripples  of  foam,  in  sparkling 
diamond  points  of  liglit,  and  the  soft  summer  haze  that 
lay  like  a  thin,  fleecy  cloud  over  tlie  distant  landscape,  that 
no  pencil  of  artist,  however  skilful,  could  ever  truthfully 
portray. 

As  she  paused  at  last  to  compare,  not  admire,  what 
she  felt  to  be  but  a  faint  and  feeble  imitation  of  tho 
grandeur  of  the  original,  though  another  might  have 
pronounced  it  faultless,  the  sound  of  merry  voices  and 
shouts  of  musical  laughter  rang  out  upon  the  sultry  air. 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  a  small  party  of  negro  chil- 
dren came  out  from  the  shadow  of  the  pines  upon  the 
opposite  bank,  that  she  had  just  been  sketching.  Com- 
pletely tired  out  with  their  berry-picking,  and  ramble 
over  the  hills,  they  set  down  their  baskets,  and  threw 
2&* 


342      THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BlUDE. 

themselves  upon  the  mossy  carpet  to  rest.  Tlie  roar  of 
the  stream  between  her  and  them  prevented  her  hearing 
much  of  their  conversation  ;  yet  thej'  were  near  enough 
for  her  to  recognize  tliem  as  children  she  had  often  seen 
playing  around  the  slave-cabins,  —  one  of  whom,  a  thin- 
faced  girl  of  ten,  was  hopelessly  deformed. 

It  immediately  occurred  to  her  that  these  were  the 
ver}''  objects  needed  to  give  animation  to  her  picture,  be- 
sides representing  a  striking  phase  of  Southern  life  and 
character ;  so,  while  the  children  lay  there  at  rest,  or 
w^ere  tumbling  over  the  green  carpet  of  moss,  she  rubbed 
out  a  portion  of  her  foreground,  and  rapidly  and  skilfully 
sketched  the  little  group;  startled  a  little  at  the  last 
through  fear  that  the  little  hunchback  was  in  too  dan- 
gerous proximity  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff  of  rock  that 
bordered  the  river.  Over  this  she  seemed  to  be  peering 
in  search  of  wild-flowers  that  grew  in  great  profusion 
among  the  crevices  of  the  rocks,  and  a  large  bunch  of 
which  she  held  in  her  baud.  Eager  in  the  pursuit,  she 
grew  so  venturesome,  that  Catharine,  who  was  watching 
her,  trembled  at  her  danger,  and  opened  her  lips  to  shout 
a  warning. 

But  it  was  too  late.  There  was  a  wild  shriek,  — little 
dark  hands  were  flung  out,  clutching  at  nothing,  —  a  dull 
splash,  and  the  little  waif  was  struggling  in  the  deep 
water.  For  an  instant  Catharine  was  paralyzed:  then 
she  threw  down  her  sketch,  and  ran  down  the  steep  bank, 
forgetting,  in  her  eagerness,  that  it  was  necessary  to 
cross  the  bridge  some  rods  below  to  get  anywhere  near 
the  little  sufferer.  She  saw  her  error  in  a  moment,  and 
hastened  to  retrieve  it  by  running  towards  the  bridge. 
She  realized,  almost  intuitively,  that  it  was  only  below 
it,  where  the  swift  current  would  be  sure  to  carry  the 


HOME  AT  LAST. 


343 


cliild  tlirougli  tlie  arches,  that  she  could  hope  to  render 
her  the  least  assistance.  As  she  neared  the  bridge  with 
an  old  fishing-rod  she  had  caught  up  on  the  way  in  her 
hand,  a  new  actor  suddenly  appeared  upon  the  scene. 

A  man  on  horseback,  who  came  down  the  road 
that  crossed  the  bridge  at  the  most  critical  moment, 
lieard  the  shriek,  and  saw  the  child  fall  over  the  cliff. 
With  ready  sympathy,  and  disregard  of  danger,  he 
sprang  from  his  horse,  threw  off  his  coat  and  hat,  and, 
without  noticing  Catharine  in  the  deep  shadow  of  the 
opposite  bank,  slid  down  the  steep  rocks  into  the  water. 
By  the  time  she  had  reached  the  bridge,  he  had  caught 
the  little  drowning  girl  by  the  arm,  just  as  she  was  sink- 
ing for  the  last  time. 


CHAPTEE  XIX. 

THE    child's    rescue. THE    GEXERAl's    DAXGER. 


^UT  the  danger  was  not  over  yet ;  for  the 
r^  banks  were  so  very  steep,  that  it  was  neces- 
sary for  the  man  to  breast  the  strong  current 
^  to  find  a  secure  landing,  or  else  glide  down 
beneath  the  arches  of  the  bridge,  at  the  risk  of  being  car- 
ried over  the  dam  to  the  mill-wheel  below,  which  would 
be  certain  death.  Unburdened,  he  could  easily  reach  the 
place  he  sought :  as  it  was,  he  found  it  impossible,  and 
was  soon,  almost  in  spite  of  himself,  gliding  down  towards 
the  bridge.  He  raised  his  head,  and  cast  a  desjjairing 
glance  around. 

Was  it  wise  to  risk  his  own  life  for  this  puny  crea- 
ure,  who,  if  she  lived,  must  ever  be  a  burden  to  herself 
and  him  ? 

This  was  his  thought ;  and  Catharine  read  it  as  she 
looked  down  into  the  dark,  despairing  eyes  of  Gen.  Ath- 
erton.  She  had  not  seen  clearly  before  who  it  was  ;  nor 
had  he  as  yet  seen  her  at  all.  Yet  her  agitation  and 
surprise  did  not  prevent  her  from  comprehending  all  the 
circumstances.  She  saw  that  her  rod  would  not  begin 
to  reach  the  water ;  and  then  another  expedient  occurred 
to  her:  so,  as  soon  as  they  neared  the  arch,  she  bent 
over  the  railing  of  the  bridge,  and  shouted  in  a  voice 
heard  above  the  roar  of  the  stream,  — 

844 


THE  cpiild's  rescue.  345 

"  Hold  on  as  long  as  you  can  !  There  is  a  tree  below 
the  arclies.  I  believe  I  can  bend  down  one  of  the 
branches  within  your  reach." 

The  tree  grew  out  gnarled  and  knotted  between  the 
rocks,  with  long  lateral  brancluis  extending  over  the 
stream.  With  little  thought  of  the  danger,  Catharine 
sprung  from  the  bridge  upon  the  craggy  wall  of  steep 
rocks  that  formed  the  bank  of  the  stream,  and  slid  down 
tliese  until  she  alighted  upon  the  crooked  body  of  the 
tree.  Then  she  walked  out  cautiously  upon  the  longest 
limb,  steadying  herself  by  the  one  above  her,  until  it 
bent  beneath  her  weight  so  as  to  dip  in  the  rapid  cur- 
rent. By  this  time  the  general  had  floated  through  the 
arch  with  the  child,  and,  by  a  little  exertion,  he  reached 
and  caught  the  branch  with  one  hand,  while  he  held  on 
to  her  with  the  other. 

"  Thank  you ! "  he  said,  looking  up  to  her  gratefully. 
"  But  now  I  shall  be  more  obliged,  if  you  will  tell  me 
what  to  do  next.  I  used  to  breast  this  current  easily ; 
but  I  am  very  weary,  and  it  seems  cannot  do  it  now. 
You  know  what  is  below  us ;  and  the  banks  are 
very  steej)  all  the  way.  The  water  is  very  deep  here; 
and  I  cannot  hold  on  long.  Alone  I  should  be  safe 
enough;  but"  —  and  he  looked  down  significantly  upon 
bis  helpless  burden. 

"  I  have  it ! "  she  exclaimed  joyfully'-,  after  a  moment's 
thought.  "  There  is  your  horse  just  where  you  left  him. 
If  I  can  get  off  his  bridle,  and  you  could  slip  it  under 
her  arms  with  your  teeth,  or  somehow,  I  believe  I  could 
draw  her  to  the  shore,  and  lift  her  upon  the  rocks." 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  She  walked  back  to  the 
body  of  the  tree,  clambered  up  the  steep  wall  of  rock  as 
quickly  as  possible,  by  a  little  petting  and  coaxing  got  off 


846      THE  EEBEL  GEXEEAl's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

Selim's  "bridle ;  and,  wlide  lie  ran  home  with  all  speed, 
she  descended  again  to  the  tree.  This  time  her  head 
swam  as  she  walked  out  over  the  water ;  hut  she  held  on 
a  moment,  and  the  wealaiess  passed  away.  The  general 
saw  her  sudden  pallor ;  and  his  heart  almost  ceased  to 
beat  as  he  realized  her  danger:  hut  it  was  over  very 
soon.  She  held  on  bravely;  and  by  dint  of  courage, 
perseverance,  and  the  blessing  she  had  silently  implored, 
she  succeeded  in  saving  little  Effie,  and  helping  the  ex- 
hausted general,  too,  to  reach  the  land.  The  child  was 
nearly  senseless,  but  soon  revived,  and  was  able  to  walk 
home  witli  her  hand  in  that  of  her  preserver. 

Their  arrival  gave  unbounded  joy,  not  only  to  the 
mother,  but  others  in  the  little  community,  whom  the 
story  of  the  children,  of  the  loss  of  the  pet  of  the  flock, 
had  withdrawn  from  their  labors,  and  whom  they  met 
rushing,  too  late,  to  the  rescue. 

They  received  the  child  with  tears  and  kisses,  as  one 
risen  from  the  dead ;  and  their  gratitude  to  her  rescuers 
was  unbounded. 

The  general  seemed  so  silent  and  depressed  on  his 
way  home,  that  Catharine  suspected  some  ill  news  from 
the  army  weighed  upon  his  spirits,  as  well  as  the  natural 
seriousness  caused  by  so  recent  an  escape  from  death, 
to  say  nothing  of  his  anxiety  regarding  his  relations 
with  her. 

This  unexpected  rencounter,  however,  subtracted 
somethinsj  from  the  embarrassment  she  would  otherwise 
have  felt  at  meeting  him.  His  self-sacrificing  conduct 
regarding  the  child  really  raised  him  higher  in  her  es- 
teem than  he  had  ever  been  before.  If  he  had  known 
she  was  a  witness  of  the  act,  she  might  have  believed 
he  did  it  to  win  her  admiration ;  but  she  knew  he  could 


THE  child's  kesctje.  347 

not  have  seen  her,  with  so  many  intervening  obstacles. 
And,  if  the  child  had  been  a  perfect  and  healthy  one, 
she  might  have  suspected  the  self-interest  of  the  master. 
As  it  was,  nothing  but  an  impulse  of  humanity  could 
have  tempted  him  to  risk  his  life  for  one  who  might 
always  be  an  expense  and  a  burden. 

At  tea  she  met  him  again  as  usual,  and  he  talked  a 
little  of  the  fine  condition  of  Gen.  Lee's  army,  and  of 
tlr.  disappearance  of  the  favorite  slave  who  accompanied 
him,  who,  upon  his  favorite  charger,  had  undoubtedly 
escaped  to  the  Union  lines.  He  had  supposed  him  per- 
fectly contented,  trusty,  and  more  strongly  attached  to 
him  than  any  other  slave  upon  the  plantation. 

The  general  said  he  was  very  tired,  and  far  from  well. 
He  ate  scarcely  any  thing ;  did  not  once  allude  to  the 
subject  that  probably  occupied  the  minds  of  both,  and 
retired  early. 

Towards  morning  Catharine  was  aroused  by  an  un- 
usual noise  and  bustle  in  the  house,  and,  upon  inquiry 
in  the  morning,  was  told  that  the  general  was  ill.  They 
had  sent  to  Richmond  for  a  doctor,  and  Aunt  Phillis 
was  afraid  he  was  going  to  have  a  fever.  She  could  not 
help  reproaching  herself  for  the  feeling  of  relief — re- 
prieve—  this  reply  gave  to  her.  She  breakfasted  alone ; 
and,  as  soon  as  it  was  over,  she  w^as  informed  that  the 
general  was  very  anxious  to  see  her.  Her  heart  beat  like 
a  trip-hammer,  as  she  followed  Aunt  Phillis,  who  was 
the  old  family  nurse,  into  his  chamber.  But  her  fear 
turned  to  pity  when  she  saw  what  a  change  one  night 
had  made  in  his  appearance.  He  was  propped  up  in 
bed,  evidently  in  great  pain  ;  breathing  with  difficulty, 
and  showing  every  symptom  of  pleurisy  or  lung-fever. 
She  went  up  to  him  ;  and  he  took  her  hand  in  his  hot, 


348      THE  REBEL   GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

burning  oues,  as  he  said  in  a  labored  tone,  "  Yon  see, 
dear  Catharine,  that  I  am  very  ill ;  do  jou  not?  I  liave 
always  been  a  healthy  man,  and  never  in  all  my  life 
suffered  so  much  from  pain  as  during  the  past  night.  I 
have  been  longing  to  see  you  for  hours." 

'•  I  am  very  sorry,"  she  replied.  '^  I  fear  your  im- 
promptu bath  had  something  to  do  with  it." 

^^  It  was  not  wholly  that.  I  had  been  excited  by  the 
loss  of  my  favorite  man  and  horse,  as  well  as  by  other 
causes  which  I  cannot  explain  to  you  now  ;  and  I  was 
quite  unwell  before  I  left  the  camp.  The  weather  was 
very  warm  ;  and  I  was  hot,  dusty,  and  perspiring  freely 
when  I  came  upon  that  scene  we  have  such  cause  to  re- 
member. This  is  the  result  of  all  these  causes  com- 
bined." 

"  You  performed  a  noble,  self-sacrificing  deed ;  for 
which  I  hope  you  will  not  suffer  seriously,  general." 

••You  risked  your  life  as  well  as  I  mine;  and  I  had 
more  interest  at  stake  than  you,  Catharine;  but  we  will 
not  talk  of  that  now.  Tins  tlirobbing  brain,  oppression 
of  the  breast,  and  difficulty  of  breathing,  makes  it  very 
hard  for  me  to  converse  at  all." 

"  Pray  do  not  do  it  then.     I  will  retire." 

"!N"o,  no  !  It  is  growing  worse  ever}"  hour.  I  must 
talk  while  I  can.  I  have  sent  for  Dr.  Huntley,  and  for 
Mrs.  Hunter,  if  she  has  arrived  in  town ;  but  at  tlie 
best  they  cannot  get  here  for  hours.  In  the  mean  time, 
I  want  to  make  my  peace  with  you,  dear  Catharine.  I 
feel  now  as  if  I  had  wronged  you  deeply,  and  indirectly 
been  the  cause  of  much  suffering  to  you.  Oh  !  can  you, 
in  your  unbounded  compassion,  forgive  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  faltered,  affected  to  tears  by  his  evident 
distress  and  penitence. 


THE  general's  DANGER.        349 

"  Catliarino,  I  do  not  ask  this  with  a  view  of  enfor- 
cing my  chxims  upon  you  hereafter:  they  were  un- 
blessed, because  unjustly  obtained;  and  I  yield  them  all 
up,  here  and  now,  upon  the  altar  of  truth  and  right. 
Hereafter,  if  I  live,  I  will  tell  you  why;  but  oh,  I  can- 
not do  it  now!  If  I  die,  you  will  find,  that  in  the 
thought  of  death  3'ou  were  not  forgotten.  You  are  now 
free  to  go  where  you  i)lease,  —  to  the  Union  lines  if  you 
desire  it ;  yd,  for  all  that,  I  still  love  you  as  my  life. 
In  parting  from  you,  I  resign  every  hope  of  earthly  hap- 
piness, if  not  life  itself.  And  just  now  I  need  you  so 
much,  —  oh  !  so  very  much  ;  though  I  know  I  ought  not  to 
ask  you  to  stay.  Yet  I  feel  as  if  my  punishment  would 
be  greater  than  I  can  bear  if  you  leave  me ; ''  and  the 
look  of  intense  agony  that  passed  over  his  face  gave  the 
most  convincing  testimony  to  the  depth  of  his  feelings, 
and  strongly  appealed  to  her  kind  and  generous  heart. 

"  What  is  it  you  wish  ?  "  she  faltered  in  answer  to 
that  mute  appeal. 

"Dear  Catharine,  I  feel  that  I  am  alone  in  the  world, 
and  in  great  danger.  My  ungrateful  children  are  far 
away  from  me  in  spirit  and  in  fact.  It  is  very  doubtful 
whether  Mrs.  Hunter  has  returned,  or  can  leave  Wal- 
ter to  come  to  me  if  she  has.  Slavery,  upon  which 
I  leaned,  and  of  which,  in  my  supreme  ignorance,  I 
boasted,  like  a  reed  has  broken,  and  pierced  my  hand. 
Almost  every  slave  upon  this  plantation,  both  male  and 
female,  wliom  I  considered  intelligent  and  worthy  of 
trust,  has  left  me  since  the  occupation  of  the  country  by 
the  Union  army.  My  staff  have  all  gone  to  their  homes 
on  a  furlough.  My  overseer  is  a  jack-at-a-pinch,  a 
blundering  blockhead.     Old  Phillis  is  kind  in  her  way, 

but  could  not  read  a  prescription,  or  hardly  count  the 
30 


350      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL'S   LOYAL  BEIDE. 

hours.     So  you  see  there  is  not  one  among  them  all  fit 
to  nurse  a  sick  donkey,  to  say  nothing  of  a  man." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Catharine  saw  what  he 
wanted  :  hut  she  could  not  speak  with  such  a  fierce  strug- 
gle between  duty  and  inclination  going  on  in  her  heart. 
She  wanted  to  go  and  find,  or  at  least  hear  from,  The- 
odore. She  longed  inexpressibly  to  go  home ;  yet  she 
had  promised  before  God  to  love,  honor,  and  obey  this 
man  ;  to  care  for  him  in  sickness  and  in  health,  through 
life,  till  death.  And,  though  from  pity  or  some  other 
reason  he  had  given  her  leave  to  forsake  him  in  his 
greatest  need,  was  not  her  duty  before  God  as  plain  as 
the  open  day  ?  " 

^'  Ay,"  whispered  conscience :  "  your  path  is  plain 
enough  now.     Why  do  you  hesitate  ?  " 

And  when  at  last  Gen.  Atherton,  eagerly  scanning  her 
changing  countenance,  said  in  a  tremulous  tone,  "  Cath- 
arine, you  were  ever  kind  and  pitiful ;  you  nursed  poor 
Major  Hunter  and  little  Walter ;  you  took  care  of  the 
sick  and  dying  soldiers  :  is  it  too  much  for  me  to  ask 
of  you  to  stay  ? "  she  said,  without  a  moment's  hes- 
itation, '•  I  will  stay.  Gen.  Atherton,  and  by  God's  help 
do  all  I  can  for  you." 

How  little  we  know,  in  these  great  and  solemn  crises  of 
our  lives,  what  weighty  events  hang  upon  the  decisions 
of  a  moment !    Those  words  decided  Catharine's  destiny. 

"  Oh,  how  can  I  ever  be  grateful  enough  for  that  de- 
cision ! "  he  said  in  a  tone  of  deep  emotion.  ^'  If  I  live  or 
die,  you  shall  not  repent  of  it.  Yet,  dear  Catharine,  sep- 
arate yourself,  if  you  can,  from  the  thought  of  being 
bound  to  me  by  solemn  ties ;  for  you  are  so  no  longer.  I 
have  not  the  strength  or  courage  now  to  tell  you  why. 
Every  thing  and  everybody  left  upon  this  plantation  is 


THE  general's  DANGER.        351 

at  your  service  ;  aud  I  trust  mj'^self  unreservedly  to  your 
care.  Tlie  thought  that  you  will  stay  with  me  takes  a 
great  burden  from  my  mind,  and  will  go  far  towards  my 
recovery.  But  here  you  have  been  standing  all  this  time. 
Please  ring  for  Tull,  and  then  go  and  rest  yourself.  I 
must  spare  you  all  I  can,  and  myself  too ;  for  I  am  very 
weary  :  it  is  such  an  effort  to  talk  so  much." 

Before  leaving,  Catharine  recommended  such  treatment 
as  she  had  seen  practised  in  similar  cases  in  the  hospitals. 
The  doctors,  she  said,  were  all  fully  occupied  in  caring  for 
the  thousands  of  sick  and  wounded  in  E-ichmond,  and 
might  not  come  for  many  hours;  and  in  a  case  like  this 
delay  might  be  fatal. 

So  he  gratefully  submitted  to  any  thing  promising  re- 
lief that  she  and  Aunt  Phillis  thought  best  to  administer 
or  apply.  And  well  was  it  for  him  that  he  did  so,  as  no 
doctor  could  be  procured  until  the  afternoon  of  the  fol- 
lowing day,  and  Mrs.  Hunter  had  not  returned  to  Eich- 
mond. 

When  one  did  arrive  at  last,  Catharine  was  rejoiced  to 
find  that  it  was  Dr.  Huntley,  with  whom  she  was  well 
acquainted.  He  approved  of  every  thing  they  had  been 
doing,  and  said,  that,  but  for  their  timely  antiphlogis- 
tic treatment,  the  patient  would  have  been  a  great  deal 
worse;  as  it  was,  he  said,  he  would  probabl}'  have  a 
pretty  severe  course  of  pleurisy  and  fever. 

The  doctor  was  obliged  to  go  back  that  night  to  Kich- 
mond;  but  he  staid  to  tea  :  so  Catharine  had  a  chance  to 
hear  a  great  deal  about  how  matters  and  things  were 
progressing  in  the  Confederate  capital. 

He  said  Mrs.  Hunter  had  been  delayed  on  her  way 
from  Raleigh  to  Richmond  by  the  illness  of  some  of 
her  family,  and  could  not  be  expected   at  Atherton  at 


352      THE  EEBEL   GEXERAL's   LOYAL  BRIDE. 

present.  The  doctor  had  knoun  something  of  Catharine's 
previous  history ;  and  she  had  to  tell  him  more  to  ac- 
count for  her  presence  there,  which  he  might  or  might 
not  regard  with  suspicion. 

"  You  can't  think  how  sorry  I  am  that  Mrs.  Hunter 
cannot  be  here,"  said  Catharine,  as  the  doctor  was  about 
to  leave.  "  It  is  so  unpleasant,  so  trying  for  me  to  be 
here  in  such  circumstances,  —  the  only  white  woman  on 
this  plantation,  or  indeed  in  this  neighborhood.  You 
know,  my  nursing  old  Major  Hunter  would  be  regarded 
by  the  world  as  a  very  different  thing ; "  and  the  color 
flushed  her  cheek  as  she  said  it. 

''  Yes,  I  know,"  he  returned.  "  But  Gen.  Atherton  is 
dangeroush''  ill.  You  owe  him  something  for  picking 
3'ou  up,  bringing  you  home  with  him,  and  probablj^  sav- 
ing your  life.  There  is  no  one  else,  he  tells  me,  any- 
where about  here,  who  can  be  at  all  depended  upon ; 
so  I  see  no  way  for  you  but  to  stay  here,  make  the  best 
of  it,  and  save  his  life  if  you  can.  I  know  you  are  a 
skilful  nurse,  if  your  strength  will  only  hold  out ;  and 
Mrs.  Hunter  may  be  able  to  come  soon." 

"Oh,  I  hope  so!  But  which  of  them  is  it  who  is 
sick?" 

"I  do  not  know;  probably  little  Walter,  who,  I  fear, 
may  not  live  long.  He  was  a  very  sensitive  child ;  and, 
to  say  nothing  of  his  wound,  he  has  never  got  over  the 
shock  of  his  father's  death.  It  was  a  sad  affair  every 
way :  the  whole  family  seem  to  be  very  unfortunate. 
Sad  news  awaits  them  now,  too,  as  soon  as  they  reach 
home." 

"What  is  that?"  she  questioned  with  paling  cheek, 
faltering  tongue,  and  foreboding  heart. 

"  WeU,  perhaps  you  had  better  not  teU  the  general ; 


THE  general's   DANGER.  353 

but  a  despatch  was  received  by  the  government  a  day 
or  two  ago  from  the  south-western  army,  announcing, 
among  others,  tlie  death  of  Lloyd,  Major  Hunter's  eldest 
son.  Pie  was  killed  in  one  of  the  hxte  engagements  with 
the  Union  army.  He  was, a  fine,  noble-spirited  young 
man ;  and  I  was  sorry  to  hear  —  But  how  white  you  are, 
Miss  Hale !  You  are  fainting ;  "  and  he  sprung  forward, 
and  supported  her  with  his  arm. 

"No,  no!''  she  gasped  with  white  lips ;  ^' but  I  am 
deeply  shocked !  He  was  once  my  —  friend,  and  —  and 
—  it  will  be  terrible  news  to  them  —  all." 

"  I  am  very,  very  sorry,"  continued  the  kind-hearted 
doctor,  pressing  a  glass  of  water  to  her  lips,  and  begin- 
ning, as  he  thought,  to  understand  the  case ;  remember- 
ing that  she  had  been  some  time  in  the  family.  '•  This 
dreadful  war  makes  shocking  work  in  these  proud  old  fam- 
ilies, —  shocking  indeed!  Are  you  better  now,  Miss 
Hale  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  faltered :  '•'  I  shall  be  over  it  in  a  mo- 
ment. I  have  been  iU :  I  am  still  far  jfrom  strong,  — 
and  it  was  the  surprise  —  the  suddenness  —  Pray  don't 
let  me  detain  you,  doctor." 

"But  are  you  sure  of  yourself?  Hadn't  I  better  give 
you  something  ?  Your  life  and  health  are  precious  here 
just  now." 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  am  better.  But,  if  Mrs.  Hunter  comes, 
tell  her  we  need  her  here  very,  very  much." 

"  Well,  then,  if  I  can  do  nothing  for  you,  I  must  go. 
But  pray  take  care  of  yourself  if  you  can.  I  will  be 
sure  to  tell  Mrs.  Hunter  if  she  comes.     Good-night." 

He  looked  back  lingeringly  upon  the  pale  but  lovely 
face,  and  saw  the  hopeless,  agonized  expression  that 
swept   over   it,   which   no   effort   at    self-control    could, 


354      THE  REBEL  GENERAL's   LOYAL  BRIDE. 

wholly  conceal  from  him.  Only  a  love  thrown  hack 
upon  itself,  only  a  heart  almost  breaking  with  its  bur- 
den of  repressed  and  stifled  agony,  could  send  such  a 
look  as  that  upon  a  human  countenance,  he  thought  j 
and  all  the  way  to  Eichmond  he  could  not  get  it  out  cf 
his  mind. 

And  it  was  a  terrible  blow  to  Catharine ;  for  in  spite 
of  legal  bonds,  or  earnest  endeavors  to  forget,  she  loved 
Lloyd  Hunter  still.  His  sudden  death  snapped  some 
of  the  sweetest  and  tenderest  chords  of  life,  and  made 
the  light  of  hope,  dim  enough  before,  go  out  in  dark- 
ness. "  Yet  what  was  the  life  or  death  of  Lloyd  Hunter 
to  her  ?  "  whispered  conscience  in  that  hour  of  bitter 
sorrow.  "  Was  she  not  another  man's  wife  ?  "Was  she 
not  bound  by  irrevocable  ties  to  one  who  was  suffering 
at  that  very  moment  for  the  kind  ministrations  she  had 
promised  before  Grod  to  perform  for  him  ?  " 

In  an  agony  of  contending  emotions  she  ran  up  to 
her  room,  knelt  down,  and  implored  her  heavenly  Father 
for  help  to  conquer  all  wrong  or  unholy  emotions,  for  grace 
to  support  her  through  the  stern  trials  that  beset  her 
path  on  every  side,  for  spiritual  and  temporal  strength 
to  support  and  assist  her  in  the  performance  of  the  sol- 
emn and  responsible  duties  that  were  about  to  devolve 
upon  her;  and  that  he  would  shape  all  the  events  of  her 
life  in  such  a  way  as  would  be  for  his  honor  and  glory, 
her  own  best  good,  and  that  of  all  others  around  her. 

Perhaps  it  was  well  for  Catharine  in  that  trying  hour 
that  she  had  unavoidable  duties  to  perforn,  that  tasked 
her  thought  and  strength  to  the  uttermost,  to  keep  her 
from  dwelling  too  much  upon  a  bereavement  which  no 
inner  sense  of  right  and  wrong  could  make  her  feel  was 
any  thing  else  than  the  sundering  of  the  deepest  and 


THE  general's  DANGER.        355 

tenderest  ties  of  earthly  affection.  But  she  was  no 
stranger  to  the  spirit  of  self-sacrifice,  that  vicarious 
"  enthusiasm  of  humanity,"  that  a  late  author  saya 
"  our  Saviour  came  into  the  world  to  inaugurate."  It 
was,  in  fact,  one  of  the  strongest  impulses  of  her  true 
aad  noble  heart.  One,  too,  that  would  forever  prevent 
her  from  giving  up  wholly  to  a  sorrow  that  would  have 
crushed  a  gentler  and  more  yielding  soul  to  the  earth. 
So,  with  a  pallid  face,  quivering  lip,  and  sinking  heart, 
yet  with  tearless  eyes,  and  a  firm  resolve  to  do  the 
duty  God  seemed  to  have  assigned  to  her,  she  entered 
upon  her  work.  With  her  there  was  no  looking  back 
regretfully  from  that  time.  "Whether  friend  or  enemj'-, 
husband  or  not,  the  man's  life,  under  God,  depended 
almost  wholly  upon  her;  and  night  and  day  she  did  hfer 
duty  nobly,  watching  over  him  with  the  most  patient 
and  tender  care,  taking  the  whole  charge  of  the  medi- 
cines, and  administering  them  herself;  resting  only 
when  it  was  absolutely  necessary  in  the  adjoining 
room,  and  ready  at  any  moment  to  attend  to  a  sum- 
mons from  the  ignorant  attendants,  who,  for  a  short 
time,'took  her  place.  She  found  TuU  and  Aunt  Phillis 
able  coadjutors  ;  but  they  could  not  read  :  so  the  real 
care  came  almost  wholly  upon  herself  Little  Effie,  who 
had  recovered  from  the  effects  of  her  immersion,  was 
now  her  chosen  attendant,  and  made  herself  extremely 
useful  by  her  peculiar  tact  in  adapting  herself  to  sur- 
rounding circumstances.  She  would  sit  by  the  patient's 
bedside  for  hours  of  her  own  free  choice,  to  fan  him,  and 
keep  off  the  flies,  while  Catharine,  completely'worn  out, 
was  trying  to  rest ;  and  she  would  watch  the  hands  of 
the  clock  with  eager  interest  to  see  when  they  had  got 
to  the  time  when  she  must  call  Catharine  to  give  the 


356      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

medicine.  The  poor  thing  was  little  and  lame,  ignorant 
and  humpbacked;  but  she  was  deeply  grateful  for  the 
life  they  had  saved :  and  Catharine  found  in  her  a  mine 
of  affection  and  trust  that  was  well  worth  the  working, 
though  she  was  black  as  midnight. 

The  general  had  a  very  severe  illness  ;  and  for  two  or 
three  days  his  life  was  despaired  of.  But  she  made  the 
best  of  all  the  attending  circumstances,  and  acquitted 
herself  in  such  a  way  that  Dr.  Huntley  said  she  had 
undoubtedly  been  the  means  of  saving  the  patient's  life. 

The  case  had  been  all  the  more  critical,  from  the  fact 
that  no  doctor  could  be  obtained  oftener  than  once  in 
two  or  three  days ;  so  she  had  to  abide  by  written  in- 
structions, and  the  medical  books  she  found  in  the  gen- 
eral's library. 

There  were  women  enough  in  the  country  at  that 
time  who  would  have  felt  it  to  be  no  crime  to  let  an 
enemy  of  the  cause  they  espoused  die  for  the  want  of 
the  care  they  might  have  extended ;  and  some,  too,  who 
would  have  helped  his  onward  journey  to  the  realms 
of  glory  or  of  woe. 

But  Catharine  had  not  so  learned  the  Saviour's  pre- 
cept, "  If  thine  enemy  hunger,  feed  him ;  if  he  thirst, 
give  him  drink :  for  in  so  doing  thou  shalt  heap  coals 
of  fire  on  his  head."  Some  may  think  her  very  foolish  ; 
but  she  herself  felt  that  her  mission  was  not  one  of 
vengeance,  but  rather  that  of  philanthropy  and  love  to 
the  human  race. 

Her  patient  was  better  at  last,  —  able  to  sit  up,  then 
to  walk  ^bout  the  room,  and  at  last  ride  out  on  pleasant 
days.  He  had  been  much  more  patient  and  forbearing 
throughout  his  illness  than  she  would  have  believed 
possible  J  for  brought  up,  as  all  slaveholders  think  they 


THE   general's  DANGER.  357 

are,  to  coiniuand,  it  was  but  natural  to  expect  some 
displays  of  irritability  and  iinperiousness.  lie  was  very 
much  changed,  she  tliouglit,  from  the  haughty,  domi- 
neering man  she  liad  thought  him  at  first,  to  one  of  a 
much  more  meek.and  quiet  spirit.  Yet,  as  he  grew  bet- 
ter, a  deep  and  settled  gloom  seemed  to  come  over  him, 
which  no  effort  of  hers  could  dissipate.  At  his  desire, 
she  read  and  sung  and  plaj^ed  to  him,  or  tried  to  beguile 
the  tediousness  of  convalescence  by  cheerful  conversa- 
tion ;  but  ever  and  always  with  the  result  of  deepening 
the  gloom  upon  his  countenance. 

One  day  he  was  more  restless  and  irritable  than  usual, 
and  spoke  rather  sharply  to  little  Effie  before  Catharine. 
Ashamed  of  it  afterwards,  he  turned  to  her  and  said,  — 

"  Catharine,  you  must  be  shocked  by  my  ill-temper 
and  ugliness.  Let  what  will  happen,  I  observe  that  you 
never  display  any  yourself.  AVhere  do  you  get  such 
admirable  forbearance  ?  and  what  is  it  that  supports 
you  through  all  the  stern  trials  that  have  beset  your 
path  for  months  ?  " 

Catharine  looked  up  reverently,  but  did  not  reply. 

"  Ah  !  I  see,  —  among  the  angels,  to  whom  I  have  often 
thought  you  must  be  akin,  if  there  are  an}^  angels." 

"  From  One  higher  than  the  angels,  I  hope,  —  One  who 
would  guide  and  support  you,  too,  if  you  would  only 
ask  it." 

"1^0,  Catharine:  I  have  not  faith  enough  in  that  far- 
off  sphere,  or  any  such  omnipotent  Being  who  inhabits 
it,  as  to  wing  any  prayer  I  could  make  so  that  it  would 
soar  above  the  earth  and  what  is  earthly ;  while  yours 
would  reach  the  highest  heaven,  if  there  be  any." 

^'  If  there  be  any  ?  Can  you  doubt  it,  or  that  theie 
IS  a  God  who  rules  in  the    affairs  of  the   universe?" 


358      THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

said  she  eagerly,  shocked  by  this  admission  of  doubts 
she  had  often  suspected,  but  never  really  knew  he  enter- 
tained before. 

*'  I  have  doubted  it  for  long  years,"  said  he  gloomily ; 
"  believed  in  no  other  God  than  that  of  Nature,  and 
that  man  was  but  another  name  for  universal  selfish- 
ness. And  believing  thus,  and  seeing  it  acted  out  daily 
during  my  whole  past  life,  you  don't  know  how  your 
noble,  self-sacrificing  example  has  affected  me  since  I 
have  lain  there  trembling  on  the  brink  of  the  grave. 
It  has  almost  convinced  me  that  there  is  a  spirit  in 
man —  or  at  least  one  woman  —  nobler,  purer,  and  ho- 
lier than  any  I  had  ever  dreamed  of;  and  that  such  a 
spirit  must  be  connected  with  some  power  that  is  invisi- 
ble to  mortal  eyes,  intangible  to  human  senses,  and  alto- 
gether incomprehensible  to  my  human  understanding." 

"My  example  is  nothing,  general,  only  in  that  I  strive 
to  make  it  a  Christian  one.  I  am  but  an  humble  imitator 
of  Him  who  came  into  the  world  to  give  the  noblest 
example  of  self-sacrifice  and  love  and  forbearance  to  en- 
emies ;  and  wdio,  to  prove  that  love,  at  last  laid  down 
his  life  for  their  redemption.  Of  myself  I  am  of  small 
account  in  God's  economy  of  the  universe  ;  yet  even  my 
poor  example,  in  his  hands,  may  serve  as  an  illustration 
to  you  of  the  eternal  principles  of  his  love  and  good-will 
to  man.  But  rest  assured  that*  it  is  his  Spirit,  and  not 
what  I  ha\  e  done,  that  has  been  striving  powerfully  with 
you  during  this  distressing  illness.  I  have  seen  it  before 
to-day,  and  earnestly  beg  of  you  to  attend  to  its  warn- 
ings, and  make  your  peace  with  him,  before  you  are 
brought  to  some  other  crisis  in  your  destiny  that  may 
have  a  fatal  termination." 

"  Catharine,  if  I  could  have  you  for  a  guide  and  helper 


THE   GENERAL S  DANGER.  359 

alwaj's,  there  might  be  some  hope  of  my  attaining  to 
a  better  faith  than  infidelity  teaches.  Without  you, 
Nature  will  and  must  be  to  me  the  supreme  power  in 
the  universe." 

"  Oh !  there  is,  there  must  be,  a  great  first  cause  for 
every  thing.  Your  idea  of  nature  is  but  another  name 
for  God,  the  Author,  Euler,  and  Supreme  Disposer  of 
every  thing  in  the  universe.  In  your  heart,  I  believe 
you  feel  this  to  be  true,  though  you  may  not  like  to  con- 
fess it  with  your  lips." 

"I  will  confess  that  you  are  an  earnest  and  eloquent 
preacher,  and  deserve  a  better  and  larger  audience," 
he  returned  with  a  ghastly  smile. 

"It  is  of  consequence  to  us  sometimes  to  turn  one 
from  the  error  of  his  ways,  that  he  may  do  the  same 
by  others.  And  I  am  earnest  because  I  have  felt  it  all, 
and  believe  it  to  be  a  solemn  truth. " 

"But,  Catharine,  I  have  never  felt;^so  I  cannot  be- 
lieve these  things." 

"  I  am  sure  you  will,  and,  in  fact,  are  beginning  to  do 
so  now  ;  for  '  I  believe  in  the  intimate  presence  of  God 
in  the  soul  of  every  man,  though  sin  and  worldliness 
may  blind  him  to  that  sacred  presence.  His  handwrit- 
ing is  on  our  innermost  shrines  of  thought ;  his  voice 
thrills  through  the  deepest  recesses  of  our  being.  None 
can  shut  out  the  thought  that  he  sends  ;  but  unsought, 
unsuggested  by  the  ordinary  laws  of  association,  — nay, 
often  unwelcomed,  —  they  remain,  return,  haunt  the  soul, 
knock  at  the  heart's  door,  as  they  are  doing  at  yours 
to-day,  and  often  forsake  it  not  until  they  are  cherished 
and  obeyed.  Not  we  ourselves  can  hold  so  close  com- 
munion with  our  own  souls  as  God  can  and  does.' '' 

"  And  you  have  felt  all  this  ?  " 


860      THE  EEBEL  GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"  If  I  know  myself,  I  have. '' 

"  Then  perhaps  you  could  teach  me  the  way  to  the 
truth  and  the  light.  I  am  sure  no  one  else  ever  could. 
Preaching  and  Bible-reading,  I  am  sure,  never  sounded 
so  sweet  to  me  from  any  other  lips." 

"  That  is  because  you  never  before  felt  the  need  of 
a  better  and  more  satisfying  faith.  Having  been  a 
healthy  man,  you  never  before  stood  upon  the  confines 
of  two  worlds,  shrinking  from  that  dark  and  dreadful 
plunge  into  the  vast  unknown  beyond  the  grave,  that 
only  a  Christian  hope  can  gild  and  brighten -to  the  true 
believer,  or  make  otherwise  tolerable  to  human  thought. 
The  hope  of  meeting  in  a  future  life  those  from  whom 
death  has  severed  us  in  this  is  dear  to  almost  every  hu- 
man heart ;  "  and  she  dropped  a  tear  to  the  memory  of 
one,  who,  in  spite  of  her  multiplied  cares  and  efforts  to 
forget,  was  very  often  present  to  her  thoughts. 

"  There  is  truth  in  what  you  say.  TVe  who  have  the 
courage  to  face  the  cannon's  mouth  tremble  sometimes 
at  the  thought  of  death  and  its  unsolved  mysteries ; 
though,  in  the  heat  of  the  bloodiest  battle,  it  never 
seemed  so  near  to  me  as  it  has  within  the  past  few 
weeks.  The  thought,  too,  of  annihilation,  of  death 
without  a  future  resurrection,  sometimes  brings  to  me  a 
horror  that  no  words  can  express ;  '^  and  he  bowed  his 
head  upon  his  hand,  and  seemed  lost  in  troubled  thought. 
Catharine  pitied  him  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart. 

That  he  had  many  causes  for  disquiet  of  a  temporal 
and  earthly  nature,  she  knew  very  well.  But,  above  and 
beyond  all  this,  she  felt  sure  that  conscience,  startled 
by  its  late  outlook  into  the  eternal  world,  was  torturing 
him  with  a  conviction  of  those  great  truths  of  revela- 
tion, that  he  had  hitherto  denied  or  ignored.     But  for 


THE  general's  DANGER.        361 

once  she  felt  that  she  had  said  enough.  It  was  better 
now  to  leave  liiin  with  God  and  his  own  conscience. 
And,  rising  quietly,  she  was  leaving  the  room,  when  he 
raised  his  head,  with  dry,  bloodshot  eyes,  flushed  cheek, 
and  a  look  of  earnest  entreaty,  as  he  said,  — 

"Catharine,  don't  go  yet.  There  is  something  I 
must  say  to  you  ;  and  the  sooner  it  is  said  now  the  bet- 
ter ;  "  and  he  took  hor  hand,  and  drew  her  down  beside 
him,  a  good  deal  agitated  by  the  thought  of  what  it  was 
to  be. 

"  Do  yoii  know,"  he  continued,  "  that  I  am  wickedly 
ungrateful  for  the  life  you  have  been  the  means  of  sav- 
ing ?  That  your  staying  here,  and  wearing  your  life 
out  in  nursing  me  back  to  health,  was  all  a  mistake, 
unless  "  — 

"  Why  ?  Why,  then,  did  you  entreat  me  to  stay  ?  " 
she  exclaimed  almost  indignantly. 

"  I  scarcely  know  myself,  unless  it  was  to  make  my- 
self in  the  end  a  thousand  times  more  miserable.  Prom- 
ising what  I  had,  and  knowing  what  I  did,  I  should  have 
sent  you  off  at  once  with  blessings  ;  and  then,  if  I  had 
died,  it  would  have  been  the  end  of  it.  If  I  loved  you 
then,  what  is  it  now  —  that  3'^ou  have  saved  my  life,  en- 
deared yourself  in  a  hundred  ways,  intwined  yourself 
around  every  chord  of  my  heart,  and  become  all  the  world 
to  me  —  but  a  wild  worship  ?  And  now,  when  life  and 
energy  are  coming  back  to  me,  every  day,  every  hour, 
makes  the  thought  of  a  separation  still  harder  to  bear." 

"Why,  then — then  —  tlie  sooner  I  go,  the  better,'' 
she  said,  rising  in  a  good  deal  of  agitation. 

"Pray  sit  down.     We  have  been  talking  of  heavenly 
things,  now  let  us  speak  of  the  earthly.     I  want  to  ask 
you  a  few  serious  questions." 
31 


362      THE   REBEL   GENERAL's   LOYAL   BRIDE. 

"  Well,  then  "  — 

"  Catharine,  if  I  had  never  entangled  you  hy  those 
fatal  bonds,  if  you  really  believed  yourself  free  to  choose, 
and  not  my  wife,  and  I  should  ask  you  now  to  marry  me, 
what  would  be  your  reply  ?  " 

"I  —  I  really  do  not  know,"  she  said,  as  the  bright 
color  flashed  over  her  face,  and  the  tears  gathered  in  her 
eyes. 

He  turned  and  looked  at  her  eagerly. 

"  0  Catharine  !  tell  me  truly,"  he  exclaimed,  "  whether 
you  really  like  me  better  than  you  did  a  year  ago." 

"  Yes,"  she  faltered  :   "I  tliink  I  do." 

"But,  dear  Catharine,  do  you  —  can  you  —  love 
me  well  enough  to  be  willing  to  spend  your  life  with 
me  ? "  and  his  face  grew  pale,  and  his  voice  trembled, 
with  the  intensity  of  his  emotions. 

Had  those  words  the  power  to  rend  the  veil,  and  re- 
veal the  inner  soul  to  the  outer  vision,  or  was  she 
powerfully  magnetized  by  the  pleading  tones  and  be- 
seeching glances  of  this  eloquent  and  talented  man  ? 
She  could  not  tell.  Yet  she  became  conscious  at  that 
moment,  for  the  first  time,  of  tlie  fact  that  she  did  care 
more  for  him  now  than  any  other  living  man,  and  that 
the  thought  of  leaving  him  forever  was  a  painful  one. 
She  realized,  too,  that  there  had  been  a  great  change  in 
her  feeling  towards  him,  and  that  the  thought  of  her 
friends,  her  duty  to  her  country,  aud  even  Lloyd  Hun- 
ter's cherished  image,  had  faded  into  indistinctness  in 
her  heart. 

Did  ever  a  woman  nurse  a  sick  child  throusrh  a  dan- 
gerous  illness,  without  in  the  end  gertting  strongly  at- 
tached to  it  ?  —  much  more,  watch  over  a  man  of  strong 
powers  of  attraction,  brought  down  to  the  feebleness  of 


THE  general's  DANGER.         863 

an  infant,  looking  up  to  her  with  patient  trust  clay 
after  day,  grateful  for  every  trifling  service,  strong  only 
in  the  power  of  an  und3ang  affection,  that  the  eyes,  those 
"windows  of  the  soul,"  following  her  everywhere,  re- 
veal, even  when  no  word  is  spoken  ?  Can  she  fervently 
hope  he  will  not  die  while  under  her  care ;  pray  that 
he  may  he  spared  to  rejjeut  of  liis  misdeeds  ;  watch 
for  hours  the  feehle,  fluttering  pulse,  the  glazing  eye, 
and  fleeting  breath,  and  thank  God  for  the  miraculous 
restoration,  —  even  when  death  for  her  own  sake  seemed 
most  desirable,  —  without  some  change  in  her  senti- 
ments regarding  him  ? 

Could  any  disengaged  female  heart,  in  fact,  of  tender 
sensibilities,  go  through  with  all  this,  as  Catharine  had 
done,  without  acquiring  a  far  deeper  interest  in  her  patient 
than  she  had  ever  felt  before,  and  without  forgetting,  in 
part  at  least,  all  previous  prepossessions,  in  her  absorb- 
ing interest  in  her  charge  ? 

We  think  not,  most  decidedly.  And  such  at  least 
had  been  her  experience,  though  she  did  not  realize  it 
till  now.  She  had  known  indeed  that  her  extreme 
longing  for  home  and  friends  had  given  place  to  the 
pressure  of  care  and  anxiety  that  weighed  upon  her  so 
heavily  ;  that  Atherton  grew  more  like  home  to  her 
every  day ;  that  the  thought  of  returning  to  the  uSTorth 
did  not  give  her  the  joy  it  had  done  a  few  weeks  before; 
and  even  the  memory  of  Theodore's  danger,  and  her 
country's  peril,  and  Lloyd's  sudden  death,  were  often 
forgotten  in  the  danger  and  suffering  of  one,  who,  in  one 
way  and  another,  contrived  to  occupy  most  of  her 
thoughts.  She  believed  he  was  her  husband,  it  is  true, 
and  perhaps  that  it  was  her  duty  to  forget  all  other  at- 
tachments, devote  her  life  to  him,  and  no  longer  try  to 


864      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

evade  her  destiny.  So  now,  when  he  repeated  the  ques- 
tion in  faltering  tones,  "Do  3'ou  indeed  love  me  well 
enough  to  spend  your  life  with  me  ?  "  she  murmured 
with  tremulous  lips,  "Perhaps  I  do." 

"  Thanks,  thanks  for  that  precious  admission,  my 
Catharine !  But  oh,  you  do  not  know  what  a  terrible 
temptation  you  are  placing  in  my  path  at  this  mo- 
ment?" 

"What  is  that?" 

"I  hardly  dare  tell  you,  through  fear  that  jon  will 
retract  those  welcome  words ;  jet  I  must  he  honest 
and  truthful  with  you  now,  dear  Catharine,  if  by  it  I 
lose  you  forever.  You  are  not  my  wife,  as  both  you 
and  I  have  believed  so  long.  The  chaplain  who  united 
us  at  Manassas  Junction  was  a  scoundrel,  silenced  by  his 
order,  and  therefore  unqualified  to  perform  the  rite  of 
marriage.  I  heard  it  all  from  IMajor  jMulford  while  in 
camp ;  and  that,  more  than  aught  else,  was  the  cause  of 
my  illness.  If  it  was  the  hand  of  Him  you  acknowl- 
edge as  a  Father  that  has  kept  us  separated  until  now, 
I  also  may  be  brought  to  acknowledge  it  with  gratitude, 
if,  with  you,  it  also  bestow  upon  me  at  last  what  I 
have  not  deserved,  — the  priceless  gift  of  your  affection. 
You  are  not  my  wife,  dear  Catharine,  by  anj^  human 
tie ;  but  it  remains  with  you  to  decide  whether  you  will 
become  so.  My  presence  is  imperatively  demanded  in 
Richmond.  I  think  I  shall  be  well  enough  to  go  there 
in  a  day  or  two ;  and  then  and  there,  if  you  will  forgive 
the  past,  and  reward  my  patience  and  constancy  by  the 
gift  of  3"our  hand,  I  shall  be  everlastingly  grateful.'' 

The  next  morning,  feeling  better  than  usual,  the  gen- 
eral decided  to  make  the  journey  to  Richmond.     He  had 


THE   GENER^VX'S   DANGER.  865 

made  every  arrangement  for  their  departure,  the  car- 
riage was  ordered,  and  Catharine,  with  a  trembling  hand 
and  faltering  heart,  dressed  for  the  journey,  was  just 
descending  the  stairs,  when  a  party  of  soldiery  halted 
in  front  of  the  mansion. 

One  of  them,  an  officer,  singled  (>fF  from  the  troops, 
and,  dashing  up  to  the  door,  inquired  for  Gen.  Atherton. 
The  general  stepped  to  the  door  at  once. 

"Why,  Atherton!  how  do  you  do?  I  heard  you  were 
sick  ;  and  I  am  sure  your  looks  do  not  belie  the  story." 

"Yes,"  said  the  general:  "it  has  been  the  most  serious 
illness  I  ever  had  in  my  life.  I  am  better,  however,  and 
am  going  to  Kichmond  to-day.  But  how  goes  it  with 
tlie  army,  Mulford  ?  " 

"  Well,  my  friend.  But  I  have  no  time  for  particu- 
lars :  I'm  in  an  awful  hurry,  but  thought  I  must  stop  a 
moment  to  correct  a  little  mistake  I  made  while  you 
were  in  camp,  that  I  thought  might  aifect  you  seriously 
and  personally.  It  is  regarding  the  story  about  tliat 
chaplain  jou  remember  who  married  you  to  Miss  Hale 
at  Bull  Kun.  It  seems,  after  all,  that  I  wa^  misin- 
formed. I  have  it  now  upon  the  most  indisputable  evi- 
dence of  those  higli  in  position  in  the  army,  who  had  a 
personal  knowledge  of  the  affair.  They  say  the  man 
was  unjustly  accused,  came  off  victorious  from  the 
slander  of  his  enemies,  and  was  never  silenced  by  his 
order.  So  j^'ou  see,  ^^our  marriage  is  valid  after  all; 
and  please  give  my  best  regards  to  your  wife  when  you 
see  her.  Good-morning,  general."  With  a  polite  bow 
and  smile  at  the  general's  surprised  and  joyous  coun- 
tenance. Major,  or  rather  Col.  Mulford  turned,  and  rode 
on  after  his  troops. 

Catharine   meantime,  through    the    open    door,   had 


Z6Q      THE   r.EBEL   GEXERaL's   LOYAL   BKmE. 

heard  every  word  of  this  colloqii}",  and,  overcome  with 
emotioD,  sunk  down  upon  the  stairs,  dizzy  and  as 
strengthless  as  a  child. 

For  tliat  very  morning,  after  a  fervent  petition  for 
help  and  guidance,  she  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
it  would  be  wrong  for  her  now,  whatever  her  present 
feelings  towards  him,  to  marry  Gen.  Atherton,  and  lielp 
him,  as  she  indirectly  must,  to  foster  the  rebellion.  He 
had  fully  absolved  her  from  her  promise  on  Harry's  ac- 
count ;  and  to  marry  him  now  would  be  treason  to  her 
country  and  her  God.  If  she  had  really  been  married, 
as  she  supposed,  why,  then,  it  would  have  been  her  duty 
to  abide  by  those  solemn  vows,  that  she  considered  the 
most  sacred  of  all  human  obligations. 

The  conclusion  was  inevitable.  She  was  already  the 
wife  of  Edward  Atherton  ;  she  realized  now  that  her 
solemn  promise  to  become  so  was  witnessed  by  men  and 
angels,  and  recorded  on  high  :  so  she  must  abide  by  b.er 
own  decisions. 

The  carriage  rolled  up  to  the  door  at  that  moment; 
and,  turning  to  look  after  Catliarine,  the  general  saw  her 
sitting  there  pale  and  agitated.  He  understood  it  at 
once  ;  and  going  up  to  her,  and  taking  her  hand  tenderly 
in  his,  he  said,  — 

"  You  heard  it  all  ?  " 

"  Yes ; "  and  the  color  flashed  over  her  cheek  as  she 
rose  to  her  feet. 

'•'Dear  Catharine,  it  is  our  destiny.  Henceforth  we 
will  be  one  in  heart  and  life  and  fortune,"  he  said  in 
tones  of  deep  emotion. 

He  led  her  down  the  stairs,  bade  "  Good-by  "  to  the 
faithful  servants,  and  helped  her  into  the  carriage  that 
was  to  convey  them  to  Kichmond. 


THE  general's  DiVXGER.  867 

As  we  are  not  writing  a  history  of  tlie  rebellion  other- 
wise than  as  it  affects  the  lives,  and  fortunes  of  the  prin- 
cipal characters  in  our  story,  we  leave  it  for  abler  pens 
tlian  ours  to  describe  the  mortification  and  disappoint- 
ment of  the  North  at  the  sad  results  of  that  peninsular 
campaign,  and  the  triumpliant  joy  of  the  South  in  view 
of  the  same  unfortunate  occurrences. 

The  South  had,  it  is  true,  lost  tens  of  thousands  of 
men  ;  and  the  people  were  disappointed  because  they  had 
not  captured  the  whole  Union  army :  but  the  leaders  made 
the  best  and  the  most  of  their  successes,  and  offered  a 
solemn  thanks G^ivinsr  to  God  for  their  s^reat  victories. 

But,  in  spite  of  all  human  calculations,  these  reverses 
of  the  ^N'orthern  army  were  being  overruled  by  an  al- 
mighty arm  at  that  very  time  to  the  overthrow  of 
the  slave  power  and  downfall  of  the  rebellion ;  for  this 
great  disaster  was  the  first  thing  that  opened  the  eyes 
of  the  nation  to  the  folly  of  trying  to  coax  back  the  re- 
bellious States  by  returning  the  poor  fugitive  slaves,  and 
refusing  at  their  hands  that  knowledge  of  the  country 
and  the  enemy's  plans  that  could  alone  insure  success. 

Fremont,  Phelps,  and  others  had  already  tried  in 
viiin  to  inaugurate  opposite  measures :  they  had  been 
defeated  in  their  humane  plans  by  tliose  higher  in  power, 
who  had  different  views;  and  the  nation  had  to  pay  the 
penalty. 

The  demand  of  that  nation  for  a  change  of  policy  was 
now  so  plainly  indicated  that  the  government  could  not 
mistake  its  duty.  The  emancipation  proclamation  was 
the  response  to  that  momentous  call.  This,  more  than 
aught  else,  gave  the  death-blow  to  slavery ;  though  in  its 
dying  agonies  it  mjide  still  more  frantic  struggles  to  pro- 
long its  life  and  extend  its  power.     This,  and  the  large 


368      THE  EEBEL   GEXERAL'S  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

amount  of  ordnance  and  army  stores  tlie  South  had  cap- 
tured, gave  a  new  impetus  to  the  car  of  war,  that,  like  a 
mighty  Juggernaut,  was  rolling  over  the  land  ;  crushing 
out  the  lives  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  noble  men 
beneath  its  ponderous  wheels ;  leaving  a  broad  track, 
red  with  the  blood  of  the  best  and  the  bravest,  and 
drenching  it  at  the  North  and  South,  East  and  West, 
with  the  tears  of  the  widow  and  the  orphan. 

On  hundreds  of  Mood-stained  fields,  men  fought  and 
bled  and  died  in  opposing  ranks  for  what  each  con- 
sidered the  cause  of  God,  humanity,  and  the  best  good 
of  their  country ;  while  the  nations  of  the  Old  World 
and  the  New  looked  on  in  astonishment  and  wonder. 
The  republic  seemed  trembling  in  the  balance ;  and 
monarchies  and  free  governments  feared  or  rejoiced,  as 
the  scales  seemed  inclining  one  way  or  the  other. 

Monarchies  hastily  and  rejoicingly  proclaimed  the 
republic  a  failure,  as  they  had  propliesied  ever  since  it 
was  established  ;  and  all  who  loved  freedom  throughout 
the  world  feared  for  our  national  life. 

The  North  at  that  time  seemed  exhausted  by  her 
mighty,  but  thus  far  seemingly-fruitless  efforts ;  and 
never  did  her  night  look  darker  than  just  after  that  un- 
successful peninsular  campaign.  But  humiliation  and  de- 
feat brought  wiser  councils,  and  perhaps  a  firmer  reliance 
upon  the  God  of  battles :  it  also  led  to  a  more  energetic 
prosecution  of  the  war,  and  to  future  victories. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

BATTLE    OF    THE    RIVALS. DEATH    OF    PHILIP. 

;E  must  now  pass  on  to  some  of  the  closing 
scenes  in  the  rebellion. 

Scores  of  bloody  battles  had  been  fought 
on  land  and  sea,  in  which  Victory  some- 
times perched  upon  one  banner,  and  then  the  other: 
but,  for  all  that,  the  anaconda  policy  of  the  government 
was  all  the  time  slowly  tightening  such  giant  folds 
around  the  twin  monsters,  Slavery  and  Secession,  as 
must  ere  long  result  in  their  destruction;  for  the 
united  voice  of  the  nation  now  demanded,  not  only  the 
death  of  Slavery,  but  also  the  release  of  her  imprisoned 
thousands,  who  were  suffering  untold  horrors  in  South- 
ern prisons. 

They  were  dying  by  thousands  of  hunger  and  thirst, 
cold  and  nakedness ;  shelterless  beneath  burning  suns 
of  summer  and  the  frosts  of  winter,  and  exposed  to 
every  indignity  and  outrage  that  could  kill  them  off 
without  the  sin  of  actual  murder. 

Yet  it  was  just  as  much  actual  murder  as  if  they  had 
cut  the  throats  of  sixty  thousand  unarmed  men,  —  a  crime 
for  which  the  Southern  leaders  will  have  to  answer  in 
the  judgment. 

Our  government  may  have  been  blameworthy  regard- 

369 


370      THE   REBEL   GEXERAL's   LOYAL   BEIDE. 

ing  the  difficulty  about  the  exchange  of  prisoners  ;  but, 
if  so,  that  did  not  justifj''  the  Confederacy  in  planning 
and  executing  this  wholesale  slaughter. 

The  nation  liad  now  learned  that  a  continual  chan- 
ging of  military  leaders  was  not  the  wisest  policy,  even 
ill  a  republican  government ;  and,  with  a  new-found 
faith  in  him  who  was  now  at  the  head  of  the  armies  of 
the  Union,  they  concluded  that  it  was  best  to  march  on, 
througli  reverses,  to  victory. 

"While  events  of  the  greatest  military  importance 
were  transpiring  all  over  the  country,  tlie  armies  of  the 
James  and  tlie  Potomac  sat  down  before  PetersbursT 
and  Richmond,  bombarding  the  former,  and  harassing 
the  rebels  in  every  way,  by  cutting  their  railroads,  and 
stopping  their  supplies  in  every  direction.  Being  in  an 
enemy's  country,  and  subject  to  tlie  greatest  disadvan- 
tages, the  Northern  armies  lost  large  numbers  of  men ; 
while  the  rebels,  suffering  little  for  a  while  behind  their 
fortifications,  laughed  to  scorn  the  assaults  of  the  inva- 
ders :  yet,  though  their  progress  was  slow,  it  was  sure, 
and  certain  in  the  end  to  lead  to  victory. 

It  was  in  one  of  the  assaults  upon  the  rebel  works 
at  this  time,  that  Theodore  Hale,  who  had  recovered 
from  his  wound,  and  was  now  a  lieutenant-colonel  in  the 
Union  army,  exhibited  the  greatest  heroism,  and  won,  by 
his  courage,  bravery,  and  the  skilful  handling  of  his 
troops,  the  commendatory  notice  of  the  commanding  gen- 
eral. It  was,  too,  in  this  terrible  battle,  when  the  Union 
troops  were  being  pressed  back  by  overpowering  numbers, 
that  Theodore,  all  at  once,  found  himself  face  to  face 
and  hand  to  hand  with  Col.  Philip  Atherton. 

They  knew  each  other  at  once,  and,  for  a  few  mo- 
ments,   fought,   sword   in   hand,  with   equal   skill   and 


BATTLE  OF   THE  RIVALS.  371 

bravery.  Theodorej  however,  devoutly  wished  his  foe 
was  some  one  else  than  his  old  schoolmate  and  rival ; 
while  Philip,  with  the  old  rivalries  in  love  and  scholar- 
ship aud  his  humiliating  capture  at  Tremont  House  all 
rushing  back  to  his  memory,  was  rejoicing  in  the  pros- 
pect of  a  bloody  revenge. 

All  at  once  Tlieodore  saw  that  his  men  were  retreat- 
ing, and  the  rebels  surrounding  him.  He  turned,  quick 
as  thought,  and  tried  to  cut  his  way  back  to  his  troops, 
but  found  it  impossible :  he  was  hemmed  in  on  every 
side.  He  saw  at  once  that  there  were  but  two  alterna- 
tives, —  surrender  or  death.  He  chose  the  former,  for 
life  was  still  dear  to  him  ;  and,  turning  back  towards 
Philip,  who  was  evidently  in  command,  he,  with  a  heavy 
heart,  lowered  the  point  of  his  sword  in  token  of  sur- 
render. 

But  Philip's  blood  was  all  aflame  :  his  eyes  were  blaz- 
ing. Kothing  at  that  moment  could  appease  his  ven- 
geance for  all  the  disappointments  of  his  own  life  and  the 
humiliation  of  his  country  but  the  blood  of  him  whom 
he  had  once  considered  his  rival.  Deliberately  drawincj 
his  pistol,  he  aimed  at  Theodore's  heart,  and  fired. 

But  God's  care  was  over  Theodore.  The  ball  cut  his 
clothing,  and  grazed  the  skin,  but  passed  between  his 
arm  and  his  heart. 

The  hot,  angry  blood  swept  over  Theodore's  face  at  the 
thought  of  such  murderous  treatment.  His  keen  eye 
swept  the  field  with  eagle  gaze.  It  saw  a  slight  gap  in 
the  rebel  lines.  Kaising  his  sword  once  more,  he  gave 
the  dastard]}'  Philip  a  sweeping  blow :  then,  dashing  his 
spurs  into  his  horse's  sides,  he  swept  through  the  gap  like 
a  whirlwind.  Before  the  rebels  had  recovered  from  their 
astonishment  at  his  audacity,  he  had  joined  his  troop, 


372      THE   REBEL   GENERAL's   LOYAL   BRmE. 

halted,  and  turned  them  back  to  their  duty,  and  was 
the  means  of  changing  the  fortunes  of  the  day. 

But  many  brave  men  had  fallen,  and  especially  offi- 
cers whose  places  were  to  be  filled;  and  foi;  this,  as 
well  as  many  another  brave  deed,  Theodore  was  after- 
wards created  a  brigadier-general. 

Philip,  however,  was  not  slain  by  Theodore's  sweeping 
blow,  though  it  gave  him  a  severe  cut  across  the  cheek ; 
but,  just  as  he  was  turning  to  follow  his  flying  troop,  he 
received  a  still  more  serious  wound  from  a  Minie-ball, 
in  the  knee.  Agonized  with  pain  and  mad  with  pas- 
sion, he  still  tried  vainly  to  rally  his  panic-stricken 
troops.  When  he  found  he  could  not  do  so,  he  turned, 
and  w^as  glad  to  seek  safety  in  flight.  His  wounds  were 
considered  very  serious ;  and  as  soon  as  possible  he  was 
sent  back  to  E-ichmond. 

The  surgeons  tried  to  save  his  limb,  but,  after  a  few 
days,  found  that  it  was  impossible.  His  horror  may  be 
imagined  when  told  that  amputation  alone  could  save 
his  life.  He  could  not  die.  Life  was  every  thing  to 
Philip  Atherton  ;  so  he  submitted  to  the  dreadful  oper- 
ation. Yet  it  was  a  terrible  thing  for  one  who  had  been 
so  proud  of  his  strength,  and  his  manly  beauty  of  face 
and  form,  to  be  thus  mutilated  by  those  he  hated ;  and 
no  expletives  were  too  horrible  for  him  to  launch  against 
Theodore  and  the  universal  Yankee  nation.  But  what 
availed  all  his  rebellion  against  the  inevitable  ?  Philip 
Atherton  was  doomed. 

From  the  memorable  night  of  Gen.  Atherton's  visit  to 
Catharine  in  the  Libby  Prison,  and  knowledge  of  his 
son's  abduction  to  get  her  out  of  his  way,  he  and  Philip 
had  mutually  avoided  each  other. 


BATTLE  OF   THE   EIVALS.  3T3 

He  wrote  to  liim  at  tliat  time,  charging  him  with  his 
villany,  and  threatening  him  with  disinheritance,  if,  in 
the  future,  he  in  any  way  molested  her  who  was  now 
his  honored  wife. 

Over  that  letter  Pliilip  gnashed  his  teeth  in  impotent 
rage  ;  yet  he  dared  not  accuse  his  father  of  the  crime, 
the  treason,  by  which  he  had  won  her ;  and  that  was 
the  last  of  their  correspondence.  He  hated  his  father 
then  as  much  as  he  had  ever  loved  him ;  and  he  could 
not  respect  him  either,  because  he  had  unfairly  won 
the  only  woman  ho  had  ever  really  loved.  They  sel- 
dom met,  and  never  spoke  to  each  other  through  those 
terrible  years  of  war  and  blood.  The  alienation  was  in- 
deed complete. 

Generous,  public-spirited,  and  devoted  to  the  cause  of 
the  rebellion.  Gen.  Atherton  had  offered  his  elegantly- 
furnished  mansion  in  E-ichmond  for  the  use  of  the  gov- 
ernment ;  and  at  that  time  it  was  occupied  as  a  liospital 
for  officers  of  distinction,  who  were  sick  or  wounded. 

And  it  was  here  that  Philip  was  brouglit  after  the 
battle,  —  to  the  home  of  his  youth,  the  house  where  he 
was  born,  and  where  the  sister,  who  still  loved  him,  had 
preceded  him,  and  taken  up  her  abode. 

A  few  days  after  his  arrival,  strangely  enough.  Gen. 
Atherton,  too,  came  from  the  army  near  Petersburg  on  a 
hurried  visit  to  E-ichmond.  He  came  to  consult  with 
the  authorities,  and  find  for  them  a  paper  of  great  value, 
that  was  stored  in  a  cabinet  in  a  locked  apartment  of 
this  mansion,  of  which  he  alone  had  the  key. 

He  knew  nothing  of  the  fate  that  had  befallen  Philip, 
supposing  him  to  be  still  with  his  division,  when  he  en- 
tered the  mansion,  and  went  up  to  his  room.  And  it  was 
only  by  accident,  as  he  stood  upon  the  platform,  about 

32 


374      THE   EEBEL   GE^^:RAL's   LOYAL  BEIDE. 

to  descend  the  stairs,  that  he  heard  the  agonized  tones 
of  his  voice.  Thoroughly  aroused  and  startled  by  those 
well,  and,  even  now,  lovingly  remembered  tones,  he 
stepped  quickly  to  the  door  of  the  room  from  whence 
the}^  proceeded,  opened  it,  and  looked  in.  But  oh,  what  a 
sight  met  the  wretched  father's  gaze  !  Upon  the  bed  in 
the  middle  of  the  room,  propped  up  bj^  pillows,  and  sur- 
rounded by  surgeons,  chaplain,  and  attendants,  lay  all 
that  was  left  of  his  once  proud,  handsome,  and  talented 
sou,  —  the  pride  and  hope  of  long  years  of  his  early  life. 

He  was  as  pale  as  marble ;  while  the  black  patch 
on  his  left  cheek  made  his  sunken  features  look  all  the 
more  ghastly  and  horrible.  His  great  black  eyes  wore 
a  terribly  brilliant  yet  frightened  expression,  and  were 
roving  restlessly  about  the  room,  eagerly  scanning  every 
face,  as  if  seeking  for  some  help  or  hope,  where  none 
was  to  be  found;  while  great  drops  of  agony,  the 
damp  of  death,  bedewed  his  pallid  brow.  And  these 
were  the  words  that  poured  in  a  wild  torrent  from  his 
lips,  as  the  general  stood  appalled  upon  the  threshold. 

*'  Chaplain.  3'ou  are  deceiving  me  !  I  am  not  dj^ing ! 
I  will  not  die  yet !  I  shall  live  to  whip  Theodore  Hale, 
and  those  infernal  Yankees  who  shot  me.  Samson 
slew  his  enemies  with  the  jaw-bone  of  an  ass  ;  and  I 
swear  I  will  mine  with  a  wooden  leg.  I  will  not  be 
cheated  of  my  revenge  :  it  is  all  I  have  to  live  for.  If 
they  take  the  city,  we'll  murder  every  slave  we  can  lay 
our  hands  on!  —  yes,  every  devil  of  'em,  and  then  burn 
it  over  their  heads.  You  needn't  stare  at  me  so,  all  of 
you !     I'm  not  going  to  die  yet,  chaplain ! " 

"  But  you  must  die,  my  dear  3'oung  friend,"  said  the 
chaplain  tearfully.  '*' You  are.  in  fact,  dying  now.  Oh  ! 
let  me  beseech   of  you  to   cast,  away  earthly  thoughts, 


DEATH  OF  PHILIP.  375 

and  endeavor  to  make  j^our  peace  with  Him  wlio  is  plen- 
teous in  mercy,  and  ready  to  forgive  all  who  come  to 
him  in  sincerity  and  truth.  Oh !  come  to  that  atoning 
Saviour  "  — 

"Away  with  such  fictions  !"  exclaimed  Philip  impa- 
tiently. "If  I  am  dying,  as  you  say,  and  there  is  such 
a  God,  it  is  too  late  for  me  to  cringe  and  fawn  for  his 
favor.  If  there  is  a  hell,  I  shall  go  to  it.  But  I  had 
rather  ^  reign  in  hell  than  serve  in  heaven,'  if  it's  full  of 
Yankees.  Don't  sob  so,  'Nel],  —  dear  Kell !  "  and  he 
turned  to  a  female  form  that  was  bending  over  him, 
with  the  face  buried  in  the  pillows,  and  whom  the  gen- 
eral had  not  before  observed.  "  Alas  !  "  he  continued, 
"both  of  us  ruined,  scarred,  mutilated,  deceived,  betrayed ! 
What  have  we  to  live  for  but  each  other  ?  Yes,  dear 
Nell,  you  shall  live  with  me.  We  have  no  one  else  to 
love  :  we  will  love  each  other.  And  he  who  has  cast 
>is  off  for  a  fair  young  bride  "  — 

At  this  moment  his  roving  eyes  fell  upon  his  father, 
who  was  standing  in  the  doorway ;  and,  starting  up  with 
the  wild,  nervous  energy  of  the  dying,  he  readied  out 
his  hand,  and,  pointing  at  him  with  his  long,  bony  linger, 
he  continued,  — 

"  Yes :  you  vvho  have  cast  us  off,  and  threatened  dis- 
inheritance, may  gloat  over  your  hoarded  treasures,  and 
cherish  the  bride  you  have  wrested  from  the  arms  of 
your  only  son, — the  bride  who  must  hate  and  despise 
you  for  the  treason  by  which  you  won  her.  If  you  want 
to  see  your  work,  the  result  of  your  false  training,  here 
it  is  in  these  poor  mutilated  bodies  and  ruined  souls," 
and  he  pointed  to  Nell  and  himself.  "  You  instilled  the 
pride  that  made  us  scorn  to  wed  what  we  were  doomed 
to  lovC;  and  then  falsified  all  your  teachings  by  wedding 


376      THE  REBEL  GENERAl's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

the  poor  governess  yourself.  You  planted  the  ambition 
for  titles  and  honors,  that  led  poor  Nell  to  sacrifice  her- 
self to  a  false  shadow  of  titled  greatness,  that  has  led  her 
on  to  rain  and  shame.  You  helped  to  plan  and  foster 
the  spirit  of  rebellion  in  my  heart,  and  those  of  all  others 
around  you,  that  has  plunged  the  country  into  a  bloody 
war,  and  will  lead  us  only  to  ruin,  shame,  and  death  ! 
You  —  you" —  He  tried  to  proceed^  but  fell  back 
fainting,  and  completely  exhausted  hy  the  intensity  of 
his  emotions ;  while  a  spasm  of  terrible  agony  swept 
over  his  pallid  face. 

Stimulants  were  applied,  and  he  again  revived ;  but 
the  spell  that  bound  the  wretched  father  was  broken. 
He  stepped  forward  to  the  bedside,  motioned  the  attend- 
ants away,  and,  bending  over  his  dying  son,  exclaimed 
in  a  broken,  agonized  tone,  — 

"  0  Philip,  Philip !  If  I  have  done  all  this,  it  was 
ignorantly,  blindl}^,  —  at  least  that  part  that  relates 
to  you.  I  knew  not  that  you  loved  her  until  it  was  too 
late  to  change  her  destiny.  I  never  dreamed  of  train- 
ing you  falsely,  or  of  leading  you  or  my  country  to  crime 
and  ruin!  Oh  !  can  you  not  forgive  the  father  who  has 
loved  you  always,  and  whose  heart  has  been  wrung  by 
this  unhappy  alienation  ?  " 

Philip  looked  up  eagerly  in  his  father's  convulsed 
countenance,  and  his  expression  softened.  They  had 
loved  each  other  truly  once  :  and,  as  he  looked  upon  him 
now,  the  old  tide  of  affection  rushed  back  to  his  heart ; 
and  the  hardness  and  bitterness  he  had  treasured  so  long 
vanished. 

"  Yes,  father :  I  do  forgive ! "  he  murmured,  as  he 
feebly  put  up  his  arms,  and  drew  his  father's  face  down  to 
his,  and  kissed  it ;  '^  and  oh  !  you  must  forgive  me  now,  as 


DEATH  OF  PHILIP.  377 

Catliarine  did,  for  all  I  made  her  suffer.  I  loved  lier  al- 
ways, but  was  too  proud  to  marry  her  if  I  could:  so  it 
is  just  to  me;  but  oh!  not  to  her,  —  not  to  Lloyd, 
who  was  worthy  of  her,  and  whom  Nell  and  I  both  de- 
ceived and  wronged.  We  are  both  sorry,  but  cannot  help 
it  now,  or  the  retributions  it  has  brought  upon  us  both. 
And,  0  father  !  you  must  forgive  poor  heart-broken  Nell, 
who,  through  terrible  scenes  of  suffering,  has  come  back 
to  us,  bereft  of  beauty,  health,  wealth,  —  every  thing  but 
life,  which  must  be  a  burden." 

Gen.  Atherton  raised  his  head,  and  turned  with  stream- 
ing eyes  towards  her,  in  whose  tear-stained,  fire-marked, 
haggard  face,  he  could  hardly  recognize  the  lineaments 
of  his  once  beautiful  and  idolized  daughter.  Por  a  min- 
ute he  gazed  upon  her  in  astonishment :  then,  becoming 
convinced  that  it  was  indeed  his  child,  he  opened  his 
arms,  and  she  threw  herself  sobbing  upon  his  bosom, 
beseeching  in  tones  of  anguish  for  his  forgiveness.  He 
could  not  refuse  it  then  and  there  ;  but  his  proud  heart 
was  wrung  with  the  deepest  grief  at  the  sight  and 
thought  of  the  ruin  that  had  blighted  these  once  bril- 
liant and  promising  blossoms  of  his  household  tree.  And 
he  could  not  help  looking  back  with  the  keenest  regret 
to  the  sceptical  and  thoroughly-worldly  training  and  ex- 
ample that  had  helped  to  make  them  what  they  were, 
and  led  them  on  to  ruin  and  death.  But  Gen.  Atherton's 
views  had  changed  from  what  they  once  were.  He  be- 
lieved now  in  an  eternity  of  joy  and  woe.  He  saw  that 
Philip  was  dying ;  and,  bending  over  him  with  tear- 
dimmed  eyes,  he  told  him  so,  and  besought  him  to  prepare 
for  that  last  great  change,  that  was  evidently  very  near. 
The  terrified  look  came  back  at  once  to  Philip's  eyes. 
He  asked  for  the  chaplain,  who  was  recalled,  and  at  once 

32* 


378      THE  REBEL  GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BKIDE. 

offered  prayers  for  the  dying,  and  tried  to  lead  liis  erring 
soul,  through  penitence  and  faith  in  a  Bedeemer,  up  to 
the  Father  in  heaven. 

But  poor  Philip  had  lived  a  sceptical,  godless  life; 
and,  trembling  upon  the  brink  of  eternity,  oh,  how 
vainly  he  longed  for  that  bridge  of  faith  that  spans 
two  worlds  to  the  Christian  believer !  With  his  dying 
breath  he  besought  Nell  and  his  father,  and  all  around 
him,  to  seek  for  that  better  wa}^,  it  was  too  late  for  him 
to  find,  before  they  came  to  the  dark  river  of  death. 
These  were  his  last  distinct  words.  From  that  time  he 
sank  into  a  stupor;  but,  before  the  light  of  another 
morning,  his  soul  had  passed  over  the  dark  river  to 
fathom  the  mysteries  of  eternity.  We  will  not  dwell 
upon  the  deep  grief  of  the  bereaved  father  and  sister, 
or  the  pageantry  of  the  grand  military  funeral ;  but  only 
say,  that,  after  it  was  over,  Nell  had  a  confidential  in- 
terview with  her  father,  and,  by  his  advice  and  consent, 
retired  to  Atherton  Plantation ;  for  she  could  not  bear 
to  see  Catharine  or  Mrs.  Hunter,  or  face  the  people  of 
Richmond,  who  had  seen  her  only  in  the  bloom  of  her 
beauty.  For  just  that  reason,  too,  none  of  Philip's 
friends  had  been  notified  of  his  dangerous  condition  ;  and 
she  did  not  appear  at  the  funeral. 

Poor  Nell  had  indeed  met  with  a  dreadful  retribution 
for  all  her  pride  and  folly  and  sin.  For  a  time  she  had 
queened  it  right  royally  in  New-Orleans  society.  She 
dressed  splendidly  :  they  lived  luxuriously,  spent  money 
lavishly  ;  and  both  she  and  Laroi  rode  upon  the  topmost 
wave  of  popular  favor.  She  had  given  him  her  money ; 
and  after  the  city  was  captured  by  the  Union  army, 
and  it  was  nearly  spent,  he'pretended  that  he  had  been 
robbed  by  the  Union  troops.     Being  among  those  who 


DEATH   OF   PHILIP.  379 

insulted  the  Union  soldiers,  they  were  obliged  to  leave 
the  citj  to  avoid  arrest  and  imprisonment.  They  went 
to  Vicksburg,  and  from  thence  to  Atlanta,  where,  for 
two  years,  they  lived  a  wretched,  quarrelsi  me  life,  sup- 
ported mostly  by  his  success  as  a  gambler.  On  the  eve 
of  arrest  for  past  crime,  and  when  poor  Nell  was  near 
confinement,  he  deserted  her,  as  he  had  long  intended  to 
do,  taking  with  him  Jett,  her  pretty  quadroon  waiting- 
maid,  with  the  best  of  her  wardrobe  and  jewelry. 

The  shock  of  his  desertion,  and  knowledge  of  his  vil- 
lany,  nearly  killed  her.  Just  as  soon  as  she  could  walk, 
however,  after  the  birth  of  her  child,  she  was  turned 
into  the  street  by  a  cruel  landlord,  to  whom  they  were 
deeply  indebted  for  board  and  lodgings.  And  it  was 
there,  sitting  on  the  curbstone,  weeping  over  her  beauti- 
ful babe,  that  Lloyd  Hunter  found,  succored,  and  sent 
her  on  her  way  to  Richmond. 

She  stopped  in  Columbia,  where  she  had  relations, 
but  found  a  cold  welcome  from  those  who  had  met  with 
great  reverses,  as  well  as  herself,  and  who  had  also  been 
shamed  by  her  past  conduct. 

When  the  city  was  captured  by  the  Union  army,  and 
the  rebels  set  it  on  fire,  by  burning  the  cotton  in  the 
streets,  to  prevent  its  falling  into  Union  hands,  she, 
like  hundreds  of  others,  rushed  out  of  a  burning  house, 
with  her  babe  in  her  arms,  and  fled  before  the  advan- 
cing conflagration.  Her  clothes  caught  fire  from  the 
flaming  brands  and  tufts  of  burning  cotton  that  were 
whirling  through  the  air.  Her  babe  was  smothered ; 
and  her  own  life  would  have  been  sacrificed,  but  for  the 
timely  help  of  James  Hooker  and  Harry  Hale,  friends 
and  admirers  of  her  youthful  days,  and  then  officers  in 
the  Union  army. 


380      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRLDE.     • 

As  it  was,  she  escaped  only  with  such  terrible  scars, 
that  few  would  now  recognize  in  her  the  belle  and 
beauty  of  other  days,  whose  machinations  had  been  so 
fatal  to  the  peace  of  Catharine  Hale  and  Lloyd  Hunter. 

It  came  out  afterwards  that  Laroi  was  a  bigamist,  a 
murderer,  and  a  villain  of  the  deepest  dye,  who  had  no 
rightful  claim  to  either  title  or  estate. 

He  was  a  "West  Indian  by  birtli,  of  a  French  father 
and  slave  mother,  and,  having  murdered  his  uncle  for 
the  sake  of  his  gold,  had  been  obliged  to  fly  from  his 
country.  But,  after  be  left  poor  Xellj  he  was  captured, 
carried  borne,  condemned,  and  executed.  And  for  a  vil- 
lain like  that  the  proud  and  beautiful  Xell  had  sacri- 
ficed friends,  home,  beauty,  wealth,  and  every  thing  that 
was  dear  to  her  in  life. 

So,  humbled  in  spirit,  and  with  a  heart  full  of  bitter 
regrets,  she  went  back  to  the  home  of  her  childhood  to 
mourn  and  dream  over  Philip's  early  death  and  her 
own  blighted  earthlj^  prospects,  and  prepare,  if  sbe 
would,  for  those  that  were  more  enduring  and  heav- 
enly. 

"We  must  now  return  once  more  to  Catharine,  who, 
since  her  return  to  Richmond,  had  been  presented  to 
the  world  as  the  Bride  of  the  Eebel  General.  He 
would  have  installed  her  at  once  in  his  elegant  town 
mansion,  with  a  troop  of  servants,  but  for  the  entreaties 
of  Mrs.  Hunter,  who  was  delighted  to  welcome  her  as 
a  sister  now,  and  very  unwilling  to  part  with  her. 

Her  brotber  would  be  gone  most  of  the  time,  she 
said ;  and  they  would  all  be  so  lonely  in  these  troub- 
lous times,  that  it  would  be  far  better  to  form  one  house- 
hold.     As  Catharine  also  favored  this  plan,  it  was  so 


DEATH  OF  PHILIP.  381 

arranged,  to  the  great  joy  of  Mrs.  Hunter  and  her 
whole  family. 

Catharine  knew  that  the  report  of  Lloyd's  death  had 
proved  premature  almost  as  soon  as  she  arrived  in  Rich- 
mond. But  regrets  were  idle.  She  was  now  another 
man's  wife,  and  felt  it  to  he  a  crime  to  cherish  the  old 
affection. 

All  her  doubts  and  fears,  and  scruples  of  conscience, 
were  now  laid  aside.  She  saw  her  duty  clearty,  and 
firmly  resolved  that  she  would  be  true  to  her  marriage- 
vows,  so  far  as  they  were  consistent  with  her  duty  to 
God  and  her  country.  Nor  was  she  wholly  unhappy 
in  their  performance. 

The  general  had  said  that  no  one  could  love  as  really 
and  ardentl}^  as  he  did  her,  without  in  some  sort  com- 
pelling a  return  ;  and  she  soon  began  to  realize  this  as  a 
truth.  She  already  regarded  him  with  respect,  affec- 
tion, and  a  high  appreciation  of  his  fine  though  misdi- 
rected talents ;  and  she  learned  at  last  to  regard  him  with 
a  fonder  love.  With  her  warm,  generous,  and  affection- 
ate heart,  her  isolation  from  all  other  near  friends, 
and  his  constant  endeavor  to  please  and  win,  it  could 
not  long  be  otherwise.  She  thought  of  Lloyd  Hunter, 
sometimes,  it  is  true,  with  pity  and  regret ;  yet,  for  all 
that,  she  had  a  higher  regard  for  Gen.  Atherton  than 
many  women  have  for  the  husbands  of  their  choice ; 
and  she  influenced  him  too,  though  not  to  the  extent 
of  giving  up  the  cause  of  the  rebellion,  which,  as 
one  of  its  leaders,  he  felt  himself  bound  by  honor  to 
support.  It  was  a  cause  that  her  strong  influence  at 
an  earlier  day  might  have  prevented  him  from  espous- 
ing, and  of  the  success  of  which  he  was  now  more 
than  doubtful.     He  had,  it  is  true,  overcome  some  of 


882   THE  KEBEL  GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

tlie  obstacles  that  barred  bis  own  promotion,  and  won 
some  distinction  in  the  army ;  yet  be  was  still  regarded 
with  jealous  eyes  by  those  highest  in  power. 

His  efforts  to  obtain  some  amelioration  for  the  un- 
happy condition  of  the  poor,  suffering  prisoners,  and  the 
slaves  at  work  upon  the  fortifications,  were  sneered  at 
by  some,  who  attributed  them  to  the  influence  of  his  dis- 
loyal Northern  bride.  A  few  were  still  inclined  to  look 
upon  her  with  suspicion,  and,  but  for  Mrs.  Hunter,  might 
have  treated  her  with  scorn ;  yet,  for  all  that,  Catharine 
did  exert  an  influence  that  M-as  the  means  of  saving 
many  liuman  lives.  Even  those  who  felt  inclined  to 
look  down  upon  the  plebeian  Yankee  governess  were 
obliged  in  the  end  to  own,  honor,  and  admire  her  self- 
denying  philanthropy,  and  that  true  nobility  of  soul  she 
exhibited  upon  every  occasion. 

Earlier  in  the  war,  some  of  these  same  ladies  had  ex- 
hibited the  spirit  of  fiends  in  their  treatment  of  dead 
and  dying  Union  soldiers.  Now,  sobered  by  repeated 
bereavements,  loss  of  wealth,  and  troubles  of  every  kind, 
some  of  them  were  w^onderfully  subdued  in  spirit,  and 
were  ready  to  join  Catharine  and  Mrs.  Hunter  in  their 
noble  work  of  charity  and  mercy. 

Soon  after  her  return  to  Kichmond,  she  succeeded  in 
establishing  a  correspondence  -with  her  friends,  which, 
though  under  government  supervision,  was  a  great  com- 
fort to  her.  It  assured  her  of  Theodore's  escape  and 
recovery,  and  of  their  general  welfare.  She  frequently 
accompanied  the  general  in  his  campaigns ;  and  famished 
always  with  abundant  means,  as  he  had  promised,  and 
every  possible  help,  she  found  unnumbered  opportuni- 
ties for  performing  good  service,  not  only  to  the  cause  of 
humanity,  but  also  that  of  liberty  and  loyalty. 


THE  DEATH  OF  PHILIP. 


383 


On    the   battle-fields    of    Kentucky   and   Tennessee, 
where  she  was  known  only  as  the  wife  of  a  rebel  gen- 
eral, she  met  no  such  jealousy  and  suspicion  as  she  had 
sometimes  encountered  in    Eichmond,  where   she  was 
better  known,  and  was   of   course  enabled  to  do  a  far 
greater  amount  of  good.     Her  tact,  courage,  and  great 
organizing  and  executive  ability,  had  only  to  be  seen  to  be 
appreciated  by  officers  and  surgeons,  who   gave  her  the 
hi-hest  award  of  praise.     With  the   ability  to  fill  the 
highest  social  positions  as  well  as  any  Southern  lady  of 
them  all,  joined  to  that  which  few  of  them  possessed,  — 
the  power  and  the  will  to  make  herself  useful,  —  she  was 
enabled    to  exert  a  controlling  influence  wherever  she 
found  herself  in  the  Master's  vineyard. 

Able  to  bring  order  out  of  confusion ;  to  oversee  the 
cooking  of  large  quantities  of  palatable  food   and  deli- 
cacies "for- the   sick   and    starving;    to    dress     grievous 
wounds;  and  to  comfort  the  sick,  wounded,  and  dying  m 
numberless  ways,  -  she  never  found  time  hang  heavy  on 
her  hands,  or  lack  of  useful  employment.     The  very  nn- 
partiality  of  her  kindness  to  friends   and  foes  had  the 
effect  of  shaming  those  who  were  inclined  to  cruelty  and 
intolerance,  and  won  for  her  a  respect  and  consideration 
she  would  not  otherwise  have  acquired.     It  was  the  very 
thing  that  gave  her  the  power  to  help  and  benefit  the 
poor  sick  and  wounded  Union  soldiers  ;  and  many  a  time 
she  thanked  God  for  the  precious  opportunities  afforded 
her,  that  she  never  would  have  had  but  for  her  mar- 
riage with  the  "  Eebel  General.''     She  came  at  last  to 
fee?  as  if  it  was  for  this  that  her  hopes  had  been  crossed, 
her  plans  disarranged,  her  will  subdued,  and  her  escape 
from  the  Confederacy  cut   off;  and  that  her  late  trials 
and   adventures  had  been  ordained  to  fit  her  for  just 


884      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

this  "work,  that  no  one  else  could  do  as  well.  Perhaps 
in  this  she  was  right.  But,  whether  she  was  or  not, 
good  influences  surrounded  her  like  a  halo ;  and  no  one 
could  be  near  her  long  without  feeling  their  spirit  and 
their  power,  or  believing  there  was  a  divine  principle 
that  governed  all  her  motives,  influenced  her  actions, 
and  formed  the  basis  of  her  character. 

And  especially  was  this  the  case  with  her  husband, 
who  had  previously  despised  women,  from  the  fact  of 
seeing  the  exhibitions  of  vanity,  frivolity,  and  the  spirit 
of  coquetry  and  intrigue,  that  had  characterized  all  with 
whom  he  had  previously  come  into  close  communion. 
For  this  very  reason  he  was  all  the  more  impressed  by  the 
strict  moral  and  religious  principle,  the  honesty,  truth- 
fulness, and  generosity  Catharine  exhibited  in  all  the 
relations  of  life.  And,  however  lax  and  faulty  himself, 
he  could  not  help  appreciating  such  purity  of  purpose 
and  sterling  integrity  of  character  as  it  deserved.  Yet 
her  moral  greatness  made  him  feel  his  own  selfish  little- 
ness and  short-comings  in  the  comjDarison,  until  the 
strongest  desire  of  his  heart  was,  that  he  might  become 
worthy  of  so  noble  a  wife.  His  scepticism,  too,  was  con- 
stantly rebuked  by  her  undoubting  faith  and  perfect 
trust  in  God.  And  God's  love  to  man,  and  the  way  of 
salvation  through  his  Son,  was  made  so  plain  to  him  at 
last  by  her  eloquent  lips,  that  he  could  not  help  believ- 
ing what  had  all  his  life  before  been  a  scorned  as  well 
as  a  sealed  book  to  him.  He  had  been  a  nominal  Chris- 
tian before,  had  been  baptized  in  infanc}",  and  always 
read  prayers  in  church  :  now  he  became  truly  penitent 
and  believing,  and  seemed  to  be  a  Christian  in  reality. 


CHAPTER   XXL 

CATHARUJE's  MISSIOX. THE  REBEL  GENEEAl's  DEATH. 

'l^B  thus  it  was  that  Catharine  had  fulfilled 
her  mission  to  the  "  Rebel  General.'' 

She  had  made  two  years  of  his  life  as 
^#^0-^^  liappy  as  they  could  be,  alienated  from  his 
children,  and  in  the  midst  of  such  scenes  of  excitement 
and  suffering.  She  had  convinced  him  at  heart  of  the 
sin  and  folly  and  madness  of  his  disloyalty  to  the  gov- 
ernment, and  the  utter  hopelessness  of  the  cause  of 
the  rebellion,  though  too  late  for  his  own  interest,  or 
that  of  his  suffering  country.  She  had,  by  her  noble 
example,  led  him  to  believe  in  the  possibility  of  virtue, 
purity,  and  truth  in  the  heart  of  woman.  And  above 
all,  and  what  was  of  more  consequence  to  him  now  than 
all  the  rest,  she  had  led  him  from  a  state  of  doubt, 
darkness,  and  infidelity,  up  to  light  and  faith  and  trust 
in  God  in  this  life,  and  a  faint  and  trembling  hope  in 
his  forgiveness  and  mercy  in  the  world  to  come.  She 
was  the  good  angel,  it  may  be,  sent  by  the  Eather  of 
mercies  to  reclaim  and  prepare  a  man  of  great  capa- 
bilities but  misdirected  talents  for  the  last  great  change 
that  was  awaiting  him  on  earth,  and  a  happier  home  be- 
yond the  grave.  We  may  say  that  he  was  unworthy  of 
so  noble  a  wife,  and  that  he  deserved  severe  punishment 

33  385 


386      THE  KEBEL  GENERAL's   LOYAL  BRIDE. 

as  one  of  the  contrivers  of  the  rebellion  ;  but  who  but 
He  who  reads  all  hearts  shall  say  who  is  worthy,  and  who 
is  not,  or  set  bounds  to  his  goodness,  mercy,  and  love  ? 

Gen.  Atherton,  who  at  that  time  had  been  summoned 
to  Virginia,  and  was  stationed  near  Petersburg,  had  re- 
turned from  the  camp  very  much  disheartened  by  the 
dubious  prospects  of  the  Confederacy,  and  with  his  mind 
overshadowed  by  the  cloud  of  coming  defeat,  — which  he 
saw  in  the  distant  horizon  a  great  deal  larger  than  a 
man's  hand. 

He  had  for  some  time  been  subject  to  serious  bilious 
diseases ;  and,  ill  in  body  and  troubled  in  mind,  Philip's 
sudden  and  shocking  death  was  all  that  was  needed  to 
prostrate  him  completely. 

Dr.  Huntley  was  sent  for  immediately  after  the  fune- 
ral ;  but  he  could  do  him  no  good.  He  called  in  counsel ; 
but  they  could  do  nothing  to  arrest  the  progress  of  the 
painful  disease  that  soon  sapped  the  foundations  of  life. 
He  knew  very  soon  that  he  was  doomed,  and  held  in- 
terviews with  government  officers,  and  did  all  he  could 
to  bring  peace  to  the  country,  and  prepare  for  that  better 
land,  where  it  is  to  be  hoped  all  wars  and  fightings 
and  rebellions  are  over. 

Catharine,  though  ill  herself,  and  wholly  unfitted  for 
such  a  scene,  with  Mrs.  Hunter,  watched  over  him 
with  the  tenderest  solicitude,  and,  when  they  knew  that 
he  must  die,  were  overwhelmed  with  the  keenest  anguish. 
Once  she  would  have  been  perfectly  resigned  to  such  a 
dispensation.  Now  she  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  a 
bereavement  that  was  to  leave  her  desolate  at  a  time, 
when,  more  than  ever  before,  she  needed  a  consoler  and 
comforter. 

He  realized  her  trouble  and  his  own  danger  full  well  j 


Catharine's  mission.  387 

and  between  the  paroxysms  of  pain,  towards  the  last, 
tried  to  fortify  and  prepare  her  mind  for  what  was  to  come. 
At  intervals,  when  the  pain  was  be3"ond  human  endur- 
ance, his  mind  wandered ;  and  he  would  talk  incohe- 
rently :  then  again  it  would  come  back  to  a  keener  per- 
ception of  the  realities  that  surrounded  him. 

"  Catharine,"  he  exclaimed  in  one  of  these  lucid  in- 
tervals, "do  you  indeed  regret  this  bitter,  bitter  part- 
ing? Alas!  how  little  reason  have  I  given  you  to  do  so 
first  and  last !  And  oh,  how  much  to  rejoice  in  the  fi-ee- 
dom  it  will  give  you  to  contract  other  and  happier  ties  ! " 

"God  knows  I  want  no  such  freedom,"  said  Catharine 
with  a  bitter  sob;  "though  it  is  true  that  I  did  before 
I  learned  to  love  you.  iSTow  I  want  you  to  live,  —  to  be 
with  me  through  this  great  trial,  — to  be  my  guide  and 
protector  through  all  my  future  life." 

"'  0  my  darling  !  it  breaks  my  heart  to  know  that 
this  cannot  be  ;  yet  your  love  is  the  only  strong  tie  that 
binds  me  to  earth.  I  have  proved  the  vanity  of  all 
other  earthly  things.  Ambition,  fame,  wealth,  parental 
love  and  pride,  have  each  in  tm-n  lured,  blinded,  and 
then  eluded  my  grasp,  and  pierced  my  heart  with  the 
keenest  anguish,  until  I  lived  only  in  my  love  for  you, 
and  the  unborn  hope  you  were  bringing  to  my  longing 
heart.  But  I  shall  not  live  to  see  its  fruition :  I  have 
sinned  too  deeply  in  the  past  to  be  permitted  to  do  that. 
Alas  for  poor  Philip  and  Nell,  ruined  by  my  towering 
pride,  my  fond  parental  indulgence,  and  godless  exam- 
ple !  Will  they  rise  up  to  testify  against  me  in  the  judg- 
ment ?  God  grant  their  souls  may  not  be  lost  through 
my  means !  And  yet  how  I  loved,  how  I  worshipped 
them  !  How  proud  I  was  of  their  beauty  and  talents  ! 
I  made  them  my  idols ;  so  they  were  cast  down  into  the 


388      THE  REBEL  GENERAl's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

dust.  I  have  made  you  another ;  so  I  must  leave  you 
It  is  only  through  God's  merc}^  and  a  Saviour's  love  that 
I  can  hope  to  escape  future  retribution  for  all  that  I  have 
done.  And  for  this  trembling  hope,  dear  Catharine, 
vrhich  I  should  not  have  had  in  this  dread  hour  but  for 
yoU;  I  owe  you  more  than  words  can  express.  Ob  !  for- 
give? and  be  kind  to  poor  penitent,  suffering  Kell,  and 
try  and  teach  her,  too,  the  way  to  heaven,  to  immortal 
life,  and  true  glory.  Nothing  else  will  support  us  in  the 
trying  hour  of  death." 

Nell,  who  had  been  sent  for  as  soon  as  it  was  known 
that  her  father  was  in  danger,  arrived,  and  came  into  the 
room  just  in  time  to  hear  those  words  referring  to  her- 
self. With  her  dormant  fraternal  and  filial  love  pre- 
ternaturally  excited  by  Philip's  death  and  her  father's 
danger,  she  rushed  forward,  threw  her  arms  around  her 
dying  father,  and  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears. 

He  did  not  weep,  but  kissed  and  tenderly  caressed 
her,  murmuring,  "  Poor,  poor  xTell !  scarred,  bereaved, 
ruined,  and  deserted  by  a  villain  !  Aiid  oh  !  it  was  partly 
my  work, — my  own  false  training;  for  which  I  hope 
God  will  forgive  me,  even  as  we  have  forgiven  each 
other.  And  will  not  you  forgive  her,  too,  my  Catharine, 
—  you  whom  we  have  all  so  deeply  wronged  ?  "  and  he 
looked  up  at  her  beseechingly. 

Nell,  too,  looked  up  with  streaming  eyes  into  Catha- 
rine's agonized  face ;  and  she  held  out  her  arms,  and  re- 
ceived the  trembling  penitent  in  a  loving  embrace,  — 
her  who  for  long  j- ears  had  been  her  bitterest  enemy. 

And  thus,  by  the  dying-bed  of  the  husband  and  father, 
that  enmity  was  laid  forever  at  rest. 

Prom  this  time  the  general  sunk  into  a  perturbed 
slumber  that  lasted  several  hours,  during  which  Cath- 


THE  EEBEL   GENERAL's  DEATH.  389 

arine  was  persuaded  to  try  to  got  a  little  rest.  Towards 
midnight  be  awoke,  and  called  for  her.  She  was  re- 
called; and  he  knew  her  at  once,  though  he  seemed  to 
recognize  no  one  else.  He  put  up  his  feeble  arms,  drew 
her  down  to  him,  and  kissed  her  tenderh^,  as  he  said 
in  a  low,  broken  tone,  "  I  know :  it  is  hard  to  meet 
it  —  alone  —  surrounded  by  the  burning  —  city  —  by 
the  roar  of  artillery,  and  the  shrieks  and  groans  of  the 
dying, — beset  with  pain  and  grief, — sorrow  and  dan- 
ger !  Yes :  it  is  very  hard  and  bitter !  Bat  courage, 
darling :  your  mission  is  a  noble  one.  God  is  with 
you :  the  Saviour  bears  you  in  his  arms ;  and  there 
is  light  and  glory  at  the  end.  They  despised  you 
once.  You  were  found  worthier  than  them  all !  And 
through  you,  daughter  of  our  foes,  a  noble  name  —  two 
noble  names  —  will  alone  be  transmitted  to  future  gen- 
erations !  —  a  long  and  glorious  line,  —  sons  of  God, 
benefactors  of  the  race,  rulers  of  nations !  A  des- 
olated land  lies  before  you,  overwhelmed  with  ig- 
norance, darkness,  and  woe !  You  leave  a  shining 
track  behind  you,  full  of  light  and  knowledge  and 
happiness,  with  glory  immortal  at  the  end  of  life's 
journey  !  Isn't  that  something  worth  living  for,  my 
darling,  —  immortal  life,  glory  everlasting  ?  '^ 

Then,  turning  away  from  her,  with  his  wild  eyes  fixed 
on  vacancv,  he  continued  in  a  louder  and  stronq;er  tone 
"We  shall  scarcely  find  it,  general !  If  we  do,  it  is  by 
God's  mercy  only ;  for  we  fought  only  for  ambition 
and  earthly  glory.  Jackson  gets  both  !  He  thought 
our  cause  just :  we  did  not ;  so  he  gets  both,  —  earthly 
fame,  immortal  glory  !  Don't  you  remember  how  we 
used  to  laugh  at  his  awkwardness  ?  Now  how  he  towers 
above  us  all !     We  get  curses  here,  if  we  don't  there  j 

33* 


390      THE  EEBEL  GENEKAL's   LOYAL  BRIDE. 

and  no  wonder.  For  just  look  at  tliem,  —  hundreds, 
thousands,  tens  of  thousands,  writhing  in  agony,  bleed- 
ing, groaning,  dying,  in  horrible  tortures  !  A  whole 
land  desolated  !  Cities  in  flames  !  The  air  filled  with 
shrieks  and  groans  of  anguish.  Heavens  !  what  a  fear- 
ful spectacle ! "  and  he  looked  off  with  wild,  distended 
eyes  into  that  space  his  disordered  fancy  peopled  with 
the  wretched  victims  of  that  fatal  ambition  and  lust  of 
power  that  had  led  to  all  the  horrors  of  civil  war. 

For  a  while  he  lay  still,  gazing  breathlessly  upon  the 
awful  vision.  Then  he  started  up  suddenly ;  and  it  was 
as  much  as  they  could  do  to  hold  him,  through  the  ex- 
citement of  a  bloody  battle. 

The  advance  of  large  bodies  of  the  enemy,  the  char- 
ging of  squadrons,  the  roar  of  artillery,  the  order  of  bat- 
tle, the  words  of  command  to  his  officers,  the  shouts  of 
onset,  the  wild  excitement  of  a  terrible  conflict,  — repulse, 
retreat,  and  rout,  —  were  all  enacted  over  again,  and  de- 
scribed in  such  vivid  coloring  as  to  excite  the  wonder 
and  astonishment  "of  all  around  him. 

When  this  was  over,  he  again  lay  still  for  a  while  : 
then  roused  up,  and  began  an  eager  conference  with 
some  of  the  most  distinguished  rebel-  generals;  and 
questioned  and  replied  to  Johnson  and  Lee,  Hill  and 
Pickett,  Longstreet  and  Early,  in  such  a  way  as  to  re- 
veal the  late  tenor  of  his  own  thoughts,  as  well  as  that 
of  their  prvate  conferences. 

'^  I  tell  you,"  he  exclaimed  at  last,  "that  our  cause  is 
hopeless,  our  rebellion  is  played  out !  Our  chief 
magistrate  has  proved  himself  wholly  insufficient  for 
so  lofty  a  station.  By  his  miserable  favoritism,  igno- 
rance of  details,  general  mismanagement,  and  jealousy 
of  nobler  men  than  himself,  he  is  causing  the  downfall 


THE  REBEL  GENEEAL's  DEATH.      391 

of  wliat  might  have  been  one  of  the  grandest   empires 
on   the    globe.     If  you  or  I  had  been   at  the  head  of 
affairs,  it  would  have  been  different :  then  victory  would 
have  perched   npon  our  banners.     Now  we  shall  have 
the  shame  of  defeat.     You  cannot  see  it !     Where  are 
your  eyes,   general?      Have  you  forgotten  that  Sher- 
man is  sweeping  through    the    South   like    a   tornado ; 
that  Grant  surrounds  us  with  his  brave  veteran  troops 
on   every   side;    that    our    network    of    railroads    and 
sources   of  supply  are   cut  off  in  every  direction ;  that 
our  army  and  the  whole  people  are  in  rags,  and  many 
of    them   starving;    and,   worse  than  all,  that  slavery, 
for  the  right  to  secure  and  spread   which  we   have  so 
madly  contended,  has  proved  the  broken  reed  which  has 
pierced  our  hearts,  and  sapped  the  life  of  the  Confed- 
eracy?    Can  it  be  that  it  is  God's  hand  that  has  done 
it,  as  a   retribution   for  the  wrongs  we    have    inflicted 
upon  that  accursed  race  ?  "  he  continued  in  a  low,  fear- 
ful voice. 

He  had  previously  spoken  in  a  loud,  vehement  tone, 
and  with  great  rapidity  of  utterance;  and  now  seemed 
wholly  exhausted  by  the  terrible  mental  conflict. 

He  never  rallied  again,  except  to  utter  disconnected 
words  :  yet  his  thoughts  seemed  to  have  gone  back  to 
happier  scenes ;  and  Catharine's  name,  in  low,  thrilling 
tones,  was  the  last  word  that  fell  from  his  stiffening  lips. 
His  end  was  so  peaceful  at  last,  that  they  scarcely 
knew  when  the  darkened  spirit  left  its  clay  tenement, 
and  the  long  agony  was  over. 

We  will  not  dwell  upon  the  grief  of  the  survivors  or 
the  pageantry  of  the  funeral,  which  was  too  frequent  a 
thing  in  those  days  to  make  more  than  a  ripple  upon 
the  current  of  the  common  affairs  of  life. 


392      THE  REBEL  GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

For  Richmond  was  at  that  time  environed  by  contend- 
ing armies  ;  and  events  of  greater  importance  were  of 
daily  occurrence.  Communications  were  being  cut  off 
in  every  direction ;  and  the  danger  was  growing  more 
imminent  every  day. 

Though  seeming  to  make  little  progress  to  Northern 
eyes  at  that  time,  the  loyal  leaders  were  striking  fearful 
blows  at  the  heart  and  life  of  the  Confederacy ;  and  the 
rebel  leaders  knew  well  enough  by  this  time,  that  some 
providential  interference  alone  could  save  them  from 
utter  defeat  and  ruin. 

But  Divine  Providence  did  not  see  fit  to  interpose  in 
the  cause  of  the  oppressor,  but  rather  in  that  of  the 
oppressed ;  so  in  the  early  April  days  fell  the  hardest 
blow  of  all,  —  the  capture  of  the  South-side  Eailroad. 
This,  their  last  hope,  line  of  communication,  and  source 
of  suj^pl}^,  made  retreat,  capture,  or  starvation  inevita- 
ble. This  sealed  the  doom  of  Petersburg  and  Eich- 
mond,  and  made  their  capture  inevitable. 

Seeing  that  all  was  lost,  for  which  they  had  so  long 
contended,  the  rebel  leaders  ordered  both  cities  evacu- 
ated, and  attempted  to  escape,  hoping  to  make  a  more 
successful  stand  in  the  South-west. 

All  this,  with  the  fact  that  they  were  pursued,  over- 
taken, and,  after  a  brave,  most  heroic,  but  useless  resist- 
ance, captured,  and  that  the  lives  their  leaders  had 
forfeited  by  their  treason  were  magnanimously  spared  by 
our  government,  is  now  a  matter  of  history 

But  it  is  not  a  matter  of  history,  so  we  will  here  record 
it  for  the  benefit  of  future  generations,  that,  in  the 
midst  of  all  the  panic  and  turmoil  consequent  upon  the 
evacuation  of  Pichmond,  Catharine,  our  poor  sorrowing 
heroine,  gave  birth  to  the  son  of  whom  his  father  in  his 


THE   KEBEL   GENERAL's  DEATH.  393 

delirium  predicted  so  noble  a  line.  The  shock  of  her 
husband's  death  but  a  few  weeks  before  had  been  a 
severe  blow  to  her  at  such  a  time ;  and  this,  superadded 
to  other  causes,  had  nearly  cost  her  her  life. 

Scarcely  was  the  first  danger  over,  however,  before  it 
was  known  that  the  city  was  in  flames.  With  a  mad- 
ness similar  to  that  which  possessed  the  rebel  leaders  iu 
Columbia,  the  authorities  here  set  fire  to  the  city  to 
prevent  the  tobacco  and  other  stores  from  falling  into 
the  h?„nds  of  the  Union  army. 

When  that  loyal  army  did  enter  the  city,  they  were 
received  by  the  dark  race  whom  their  blood  and  toil  had 
redeemed  from  chains  and  stripes  and  all  t]ie  horrors 
of  slavery,  with  the  most  enthusiastic  demonstrations  of 
joy.  But  their  kind  and  considerate  treatment  of  the 
whites  who  remained  was  regarded  with  wonder  and 
astonishment.  Their  leaders  had  led  them  to  expect 
the  most  shocking  barbarities;  and  they  looked  for 
nothing  better  from  the  hated  Yankees  than  murder, 
rapine,  and  plunder.  The  real  thieves  and  murderers 
who  did  pursue  their  fiendish  work,  committing  out- 
rages upon  those  unable  to  escape  their  rapacity,  were  the 
stragglers  from  their  own  disorganized  rebel  army.  As 
in  Columbia,  so  now  in  Eichmond,  the  victors  were 
obliged  to  go  to  work  at  once  to  extinguish  the  flames 
the  maddened  rebel  leaders  had  set  in  the  homes  of 
their  own  people ;  but  for  their  almost  superhuman  ex- 
ertions the  whole  city  would  have  been  reduced  to  ashes. 

And  while  the  billowy  flames  were  roaring,  and  the 
walls  crumbling,  and  the  chimneys  tottering,  and  the 
people  shouting,  screaming,  and  rushing  wildly  through 
the  streets,  poor  Catharine  lay  faint,  weak,  and  trem- 
bling with  excitement,  in  her  darkened  chamber,  half 


394      THE  REBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

siiiFocated  by  the  smok}'-  air;  tliough  the  house  waa 
at  some  distance  from  the  real  scene  of  the  wide-spread 
conflagration. 

Listening  nervously,  as  she  had  been  for  hours,  to  the 
explosions  of  gunboats  and  magazines,  set  on  fire  by 
rebel  authority ;  to  the  measured  tramp  of  many  feet, 
the  shrill  tones  of  numerous  high-pitched  voices,  and 
tlie  distant  roar  of  the  flames, — it  was  no  wonder  if 
she  was  nearly  distracted,  and  at  last  begged  Mrs. 
Hunter  to  go  out  and  see  what  it  all  meant.  To  her 
astonishment,  when  she  descended  the  stairs,  Mrs.  Hun- 
ter found  that  children,  servants,  even  to  Aunt  Dinah,  — 
everybody  in  the  house  in  fact  but  little  Effie,  —  had 
gone  out  to  join  in  the  general  jubilee  of  terror  as  well 
as  rejoicing.  Alarmed  at  once  for  the  safety  of  her  chil- 
dren, she  took  the  cliild  up  to  stay  with  poor  Catharine 
and  the  wee  bab}^,  and  hun-ied  down  stairs,  and  out  upon 
the  street,  to  look  in  considerable  alarm  for  her  scattered 
family. 

After  wondering  over  and  kissing  the  bab}',  wliich  she 
now  delightedly  saw  for  the  first  time,  Effie  placed  her- 
self, at  Catharine's  request,  at  a  fi'ont  window  to  report 
the  progress  of  affairs  in  the  street. 

She  did  this  for  some  time  without  thinking  much  of 
the  fire  in  the  distance.  All  at  once  she  was  startled  by 
a  torrent  of  smoke  that  came  drifting  around  the  corner 
from  the  sheds  and  stables  in  tlie  rear,  which,  unfortu- 
nately, were  all  connected  with  the  mansion. 

Child  as  she  was,  she  suspected  the  truth,  and,  with  a 
rare  instinct,  felt  that  a  knowledge  of  it  would  alarm  and 
harm  her  sick  mistress,  whom  she  almost  worshipped. 

So,  rising,  and  saying  she  must  go  down  a  minute,  she 
ran  out,  and  through  the  upper  hall  to  a  back  window. 


9P  3 


?    '^^^^ 


THE  EEBEL  GENERAL' S   DEATH.  395 

Sure  enough,  there  were  the  flames  just  rising  from 
the  roof  of  the  shed,  where  they  had  caught  from  some 
of  the  sparks  or  flaming  brands  that  were  beginning  to 
fill  the  air  in  every  direction.  She  knew  that  Mrs. 
Hunter  had  locked  or  bolted  all  the  doors ;  but,  fright- 
ened half  out  of  her  senses,  she  ran  down  the  stairs, 
unfastened  one  of  the  low  front  windows,  opened  it, 
jumped  out,  and  ran  into  the  street.  A  party  of  Union 
soldiery,  it  so  happened,  had  just  halted  from  some  cause 
in  front  of  the  mansion ;  and  to  these  the  child  ran, 
shouting  at  the  top  of  her  voice,  — 

"Oh,  come  !  come  quick  !  de  shed  all  burn  to  blazes; 
an'  de  house  gonext,' wid  de  dear  sick  missis  an'  de  leetle 
mite  of  a  baby.     Oh,  come,  quick,  quick  !  " 

And  Catharine,  wondering  at  the  child's  conduct,  and 
listening  intently,  heard  that  startling  cry.  The  Union 
officers  meantime,  ever  ready  to  attend  to  the  calls  of 
humanity,  instantly  dismounted,  threw  their  bridles  to 
their  attendants,  and  entered  the  yard,  where  they 
found  there  was  really  serious  cause  for  alarm  ;  and  also 
that  it  was  a  matter  of  great  importance  to  arrest  the 
progress  of  the  conflagration  in  this  new  locality,  which 
was  one  of  the  finest  portions  of  the  city. 

So  the  most  suitable  men  were  summoned,  and  went 
to  work  with  a  will ;  and  though  for  some  little  time  it 
seemed  impossible  to  save  the  dwelling,  it  was  done  at 
last  by  tearing  down  the  connecting  buildings.  When 
the  danger  seemed  most  imminent,  the  little  humpbacked 
girl,  who  was  watching  them,  ran  to  him  who  seemed  to 
be  the  leader  of  the  party,  exclaiming  with  uplifted 
hands  and  streaming  eyes,  — 

"Oh!  oh!  it'll  all  burn  up,  with  poor  sick  missus,  an' 
de  leetle  baby,  an'  de  pretty  dresses,  an'  ebery  ting." 


396      THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"  Are  they  here,  — in  this  house  ?'^  he  asked,  with  his 
interest  strongly  excited. 

^'  Oh,  yes  !  up  de  stair.     I'll  show  massa  de  way." 

So  she  took  him  around  through  the  open  window,  par- 
lor, and  hall,  and  up  the  front  staircase.  On  the  landing, 
at  the  top  of  the  stairs,  the  young  officer  was  met  hy  an 
apparition  that  startled  and  surprised  him.  It  was  Cath- 
arine in  her  white  night-dress,  with  her  bahe  in  her  arms, 
who,  supposing  herself  alone  in  the  burning  dwelling, 
had  forgotten  her  weakness  in  her  extreme  terror,  and, 
crawling  from  the  bed,  was  feebly  trying  to  make  her 
escape.  She  stopped  short  at  the  sight  of  a  man  in  loyal 
uniform  ascending  the  stairs,  looked  eagerly  in  his  face 
for  a  moment,  murmured  Theodore's  name,  and  fell  for- 
ward fainting  in  his  arms.  The  precious  babe  dropped 
from  her  nerveless  grasp,  but  was  caught  by  little  watch- 
ful Effie  before  it  struck  the  floor.  Theodore  himself 
came  near  losing  his  balance,  and  falling  down  the 
stairs,  he  was  so  shocked  and  overcome  by  this  strange 
and  unexpected  meeting  :  but  he  recovered  in  a  mo- 
ment ;  and,  following  the  child  into  Catharine's  chamber, 
he  laid  her  upon  the  bed,  where  she  soon  regained  her 
consciousness.  The  arrival  of  ]\Irs.  Hunter  just  then 
was  warmly  welcomed.  She  had  found  Aunt  Dinah  and 
the  children,  and  brought  them  home,  only  to  find,  that, 
but  for  the  Union  soldiers,  they  would  have  found  no 
home  to  receive  them.  Catharine  was  soon  restored, 
without  in  the  end  sustaining  serious  injury.  The  meet- 
ing with  Theodore,  and  the  news  he  brought  from  home, 
was  like  a  cordial  to  her  fainting  spirit. 

Mrs.  Hunter  was-  obliged  to  confess  her  past  injustice 
to  those  who  treated  the  people  of  Richmond  so  forbear- 
iiigly.     When  the  great  and  good  President  visited  it  a 


THE  REBEL  GEXERAL's  DEATH.  397 

few  days  afterwards,  she  was  glad  to  welcome  him  whom 
she  had  once  bitterly  denounced,  and  to  mourn  for  him, 
too,  with  a  whole  restored  nation,  when,  a  few  days  later 
still,  he  was  cruelly  murdered.  This  seemed  a  strange 
consummation  of  the  horrors  of  a  bloody  civil  war,  to 
come  as  it  did  in  the  hour  of  victory,  like  a  black  cloud 
that  overshadows  the  brightness  of  a  glorious  day. 

He  alone  who  knows  the  end  from  the  beginning 
could  tell  why  this  great  affliction  was  sent  upon  our 
distracted  country  then,  — perhaps  that  the  glorious  mar- 
tyrs death  should  be  the  means  of  healing  some  of  its 
sectional  and  party  bitterness.  The  rebellion  was  now 
virtually  over ;  and,  after  a  few  more  struggles,  peace 
was  restored  to  our  bereaved  and  desolated  country. 
84 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

GOING   HOME. THE    FIRST   LOVE   AT   LAST. 

^'§UST  as  soon  as  Catharine  was  able  to  travel, 
I-""  .^^ii^^  and  Theodore  could  obtain  a  furiough,  they 
f '>/sr?i  ii^  made  the  iourney  home,  where  they  were 
fe'^^^i^  welcomed  by  the  dear  mother  and  sister 
with  open  arms  and  warm,  loving  hearts,  that  found 
abundant  room  for  the  beautiful  little  black-eyed  stranger, 
who  bore  the  name  of  Edward  Atherton. 

Harry,  pale,  emaciated,  and  just  recovering  from  sick- 
ness and  a  severe  wound,  had  arrived  a  few  days  before 
them ;  so  the  joy  of  the  meeting  was  as  complete  as  it 
could  be,  after  all  their  strange  and  terrible  experiences. 

Yet  they  had  all  grown  much  more  than  four  years 
older  in  feeling  since  they  parted;  and  the  dear,  patient 
mother's  head  had  visibly  whitened  by  her  long  and 
sometimes  agonizing  suspense  regarding  the  childi-en  of 
her  love.  Dr.  Morven,  who  was  now  a  i^hysician  of  large 
practice,  beloved  and  respected  by  the  whole  community, 
had  gone  to  live  with  Mrs.  Hale ;  and  little  Jessie,  as 
they  used  to  call  her,  with  her  head,  heart,  and  hands 
full  of  her  husband,  two  beautiful  children,  and  domestic 
matters  generally,  seemed  perfectly  happy  and  contented 
with  her  surroundings. 

"You  have  not  told  me  yet  how  you  came  by  the 
398 


GOING  Ho:viE.  399 

wound  that  occasions  your  lameness/'  said  Catharine  to 
Harry  a  few  days  after  their  return.  "  It  must  be  a 
great  affliction  to  an  active  young  fellow  like  you." 

"  Yes  :  it  is  so ; "  and  Harry's  smiling  face  sobered  in  an 
instant.  "  Yet  I  have  so  much  reason  to  thank  God 
that  it  is  no  worse,  that  I  scarcely  mind  it  most  of  the 
time.  You  see,  after  I  escaped  from  Manassas,  where  I 
met  with  you,  I  was  sent  West  and  South,  and  finally, 
with  Sherman's  loyal  army,  made  that  famous  march  to 
the  sea.  First  and  last,  I  passed  through  a  score  of 
battles  and  sieges  unscathed,  until  we  got  to  that  mis- 
erable little  village  of  Bentonville  last  March.  There, 
in  a  hotly-contested  battle  with  Joe  Johnston's  army,  I 
was  shot  through, — just  below  the  knee.  Our  regiment 
just  then  met  with  a  sharp  repulse,  and  were  obliged  to 
turn  and  retreat  before  the  rebel  squadrons.  In  their 
hot  haste,  they  could  not  stop  to  pick  me  up  ;  so  I  was  left 
to  the  mercy  of  the  enemy.  After  lying  for  hours  in  the 
hot  sunshine  and  night-dew,  I  was  picked  up  and  taken 
to  a  rebel  field-hospital ;  and  there,  but  for  Lloyd  Hunter, 
I  should  no  doubt  have  lost,  not  only  my  limb,  but  my  life." 

"Lloyd  Hunter  !  "  echoed  Catharine  in  surprise. 

"  Yes :  Lloyd  Hunter,  who,  though  he  recognized  me 
only  as  a  suffering  human  being,  kindly  interposed  to 
save  me  from  the  barbarity  of  an  ignorant  and  savage 
rebel  surgeon,  who,  in  spite  of  my  piteous  pleading,  was, 
it  seemed,  almost  in  sport,  about  to  apply  the  knife  and 
saw  to  my  quivering  limb.  Though  not  a  regular  sur- 
geon, Lloyd,  it  seemed,  had  attained  to  wondrous  skill 
and  great  reputation  in  the  rebel  army,  —  so  much  indeed 
as  to  make  his  word  a  law  ;  and  his  humanity  and  piety 
were  quite  as  proverbial  as  his  skill.  He  decided,  that 
in   my  case    amputation  was   unnecessary,  dressed   my 


400      THE  EEBEL  GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

wound  himself,  and  afterwards,  when  he  found  me  out, 
treated  me  in  the  kindest  manner.  And  for  that  I  owe 
him  unspeakable  obligations,  as  I  think  do  hundreds  of 
other  Union  soldiers,  who  came  within  the  sphere  of  his 
influence.  His  heart,  I  am  sure,  was  not  in  the  rebel- 
lion ;  and  he  worked  day  and  night  to  ameliorate  as  far  as 
possible  the  suffering  caused  by  it." 

"  But  how  did  you  escape  at  last  ?  "  said  Catharine, 
with  a  mental  backward  glance  and  her  eyes  filling  with 
tears,  as  she  remembered  their  last  parting  in  Richmond, 
and  the  earnestness  of  her  appeal  to  Lloyd  to  do  this 
very  work  that  had  undoubtedly  been  the  means  of  sav- 
ing her  brother's  life.  Was  not  that,  too,  one  of  the 
rewards  of  her  self-sacrifice  ?  How  many  streams  of 
beneficence  sometimes  flow  from  one  unselfish  act_,  v^^ord, 
.or  thought ! 

*'  I  remained  with  the  rebels  until  the  surrender  of 
Johnston's  azmy,"  said  Harry  in  reply  to  her  question, 
"when,  I  assure  you,  I  was  very  glad  to  be  surrendered 
myself,  and  sent  home." 

Harry  had  always  liked  Lloyd  Hunter,  and  knew 
well  enough  how  Catharine  had  regarded  him  in  the 
past^  and  he  was  not  sorry  to  see  that  his  name  had 
still  the  power  to  awaken  some  of  the  old  emotion  in 
her  heart ;  for  not  only  Harry,  but  the  whole  family, 
in  their  active  loyalty,  had  felt  indignant  at  Catharine 
for  marrying  the  "old  E-ebel  General,"  as  he  called  him, 
—  supposing,  of  course,  that  she  had  done  it  from  motives 
of  ambition,  and  the  desire  for  wealth  and  power. 

She  would  not  undeceive  them  in  his  Hfetime  for  a 
good  many  reasons ;  but  now,  when  she  heard  the  feel- 
ing plainly  expressed,  she  felt  as  if  it  were  due  to  herself, 
once  for  all,  to  explain  the  facts  to  her  own  family.     Yet 


GOING  HOiME.  401 

for  the  lionor  of  tlie  name  slie  bore,  —  her  child's,  —  and 
the  memory  of  hioi,  who,  for  love  of  her,  had  committed 
such  treason,  they  were  not  to  reveal  it  to  others.  So,  in 
saddened  tones,  and  with  many  tender  memories,  she  told 
them  the  story  of  her  wedded  life.  And  then  indeed 
they  were  all  deeply  affected  by  the  knowledge  of  the 
price  she  had  paid  for  Harry's  life,  and  all  she  had  suf- 
fered on  account  of  it,  —  and  Harry  more  than  all  the 
rest,  who  begged  her  forgiveness  for  his  harsh  judgment. 
And  when  they  heard  of  all  Gen.  Atherton's  after 
kindness,  —  his  sincere  penitence  and  deep  sorrow  for 
his  part  in  bringing  about  the  rebellion,  his  late  efforts 
to  bring  peace  to  his  distracted  country,  and  of  all  his 
really  noble  qualities  of  head  and  heart,  —  they  were 
ready  to  forgive  him.  And  they  felt,  too,  as  Catharine 
did,  as  if  God's  hand  were  really  guiding  her  through  it 
all,  that  she  might  become  a  blessing  to  hundreds. 

Her  visit  to  the  old  home  was  eminently  satisfactory 
to  the  whole  family,  who  enjoyed  every  moment  of  that 
precious  re-union ;  for  each  one  had  a  separate  history, 
that  would  have  filled  volumes,  in  all  those  bloody  years, 
that  must  be  rehearsed  for  the  benefit  of  the  others. 
And  each  heart  became  more  endeared  to  the  others  by 
this  close  communion  and  mutual  sympathy.     But  every 
thing  in  life  must  have  an  end ;  and  so  did  this  memora- 
ble visit :  for  it  was  necessary  for  Catharine  to  return  to 
Eichmond  to  settle  up  her  husband's  affairs,  and  look  after 
the  poor  dependants  upon  his  estates,  who  now,  though 
free,  in  their  ignorance  and  darkness,  needed  some  one 
to  instruct  and  guide  them,  until  they  had  learned  the 
art  of  taking  care  of  themselves.     So,  taking  Theodore 
with  her  to  look  after  her  affairs,  Catharine  bade  her 
friends  adieu,  and  set  out  for  Eichmond. 

34* 


402      TEffi  EEBEL  general's  LOYAL  BBIDE. 

They  stopped  a  few  days  in  Wasliington,  where  Theo- 
dore had  business  connected  with  the  army ;  and  while 
there  they  also  visited  Grace  and  Helen  Tremont,  whoj 
since  the  death  of  their  father  in  a  rebel  prison,  had 
made  that  city  their  home.  But  they  were  now  anxious 
to  return  to  Kichmond,  and  look  after  the  relics  of  their 
once  large  fortune ;  so  they  accepted  Catharine's  invitation 
to  join  her  party. 

One  evening,  w^hile  they  were  in  "Washington,  they 
went,  for  a  diversion,  to  one  of  President  Johnson's 
levees.  For  some  time  they  wandered  through  the  gor- 
geous rooms,  considerably  amused  by  watching  the  indis- 
criminate crowd  of  people  who  on  such  occasions  throng 
the  executive  mansion,  sunning  themselves  for  a  moment 
in  the  beams  that  ever  like  a  halo  surround  the  heads 
of  those  in  power,  —  at  least  to  some  admiring  eyes. 
They  had  shaken  hands  with  the  presidential  party,  and 
were  on  the  retreat,  —  Theodore  and  Grace  in  the  ad- 
vance, and  Catharine  and  Helen  in  the  rear,  — when  all 
at  once  Catharine  felt  a  hand  firmly  laid  upon  her 
shoulder. 

She  turned  back  angrily  to  see  who  had  taken  such 
an  unwarrantable  liberty,  and  was  confronted  by  a  face 
close  up  to  her  own,  which,  though  it  made  lier  start, 
she  did  not  at  first  recognize.  But  there  was  no  mis- 
taking the  voice  tliat  exclaimed  a  moment  later,  — 

"  Why,  how  d'ye  du.  Miss  Kate  ?  I'm  darned  glad  to 
see  ye.  Where  in  the  world  did  ye  come  from,  any 
way  ?  Come,  let  me  introduce  ye  to  my  wife  ; "  and, 
with  his  long,  yellow  finger,  he  pointed  admiringly  to 
a  prematurely-faded  yet  still  fine-looking  woman,  ele- 
gantly dressed,  and  blazing  with  jewels,  whose  casual 
yet  scornful  glance  at  him  at  that  moment  plainly  an- 


GOING  ho:me.  403 

nonnced  the  degree  of  estimation  in  whicli  slie  held  him. 
Her  extravagant  st^de  of  dress,  too,  clearly  indicated  the 
reason  why  she,  a  deserted  and  disappointed  belle,  had 
married  him,  —  for  the  sake  of  his  ill-gotten  millions. 

But  millions  could  not  hide  his  innate  vulgarity,  or 
teach  him  the  decencies  of  life,  or  the  manners  of  re- 
spectable society.  Catharine  tried  to  rebuke,  and  get  rid 
of  him,  by  turning  silently  away,  —  as  if  she  did  not 
recognize  him ;  but  it  was  of  no  use. 

"  Ah,  I  see  ! "  he  continued  with  a  wicked  leer  of 
those  little  malignant  gray  eyes  she  remembered  so 
well,  —  "  top-lofty  as  ever !  I  always  liked  it,  though : 
it  made  you  look  so  handsome  and  queenly.  I  always 
had  a  fancy  for  queens.  It  was  jest  the  reason  I  married 
that  gal  yonder,  —  'cause  she  looked  so  much  like  ye. 
But  she's  proud  as  Lucifer  and  ugly  as  sin,"  he  whis- 
pered confidentially,  as  he  kept  close  to  Catharine's  side 
as  she  moved  along.  "  You  see,"  he  continued,  "  that  I 
know  all  about  ye  still.  Mistress  Catharine.  I  know 
you've  got  rid  of  that  dariied  old  rebel  general ;  and,  if 
I  was  only  a  widower  now — by  golly,  I'd  be  steppin' 
up  tu  ye  ! " 

"Do  you  mean  to  insult  me,  sir?^'  exclaimed  Cath- 
arine with  a  withering  look  of  contempt.  "  I  have  no 
desire  now  or  ever,  Mr.  Sweep,  for  your  further  ac- 
quaintance ;  and  she  swept  by  him  like  a  queen  indeed, 
caught  Theodore's  arm,  and  was  soon  out  of  the  reach 
of  his  impudence  and  importunity. 

Sweep  had  indeed  gathered  his  millions ;  but  he  had 
also  caught  a  Tartar,  w^ho  despised  him,  would  spend 
his  money  in  careless  extravagance,  and  harass  and 
torment  his  whole  future  life.    • 

Catharine  re-opened  the  old  Atherton  mansion  soon 


404      THE  REBEL   GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

after  her  return  to  Kichmond ;  and  ^ell,  who  since  her 
father's  death  had  remained  on  the  old  phintation,  was 
invited  to  make  it  her  home  once  more.  She  seemed 
grateful  for  the  invitation,  accepted  it  at  once ;  and 
all  her  old  stiffness  and  acrimony  were  soon  swept  away 
by  Catharine's  kindness  and  forgiving  love.  They  met, 
not  as  mother  and  daughter,  however,  but  more  like 
long-estranged  sisters  ;  united  by  the  tie  of  that  beau- 
tiful child,  the  first  sight  of  whom  brought  back  the 
bitter  memory  of  her  own  to  Xell's  bereaved  heart,  as 
well  as  that  of  the  lost  father  and  brother  it  so  strongly 
resembled. 

That  memory  was  indeed  a  blessed  one  to  poor 
storm-tossed,  life-wrecked  Nell  Atherton  ;  and  it  bore 
blessed  fruits  in  a  fervent  love  for  the  child  that  had 
come  to  fill  the  places  of  the  dead  in  more  than  one 
bereaved  and  mourning  heart,  and  to  bear  the  name  of 
a  proud  race  to  future  generations. 

The  change  in  Nell  was  indeed  as  wonderful  as  it  was 
unlocked  for.  Her  old  proud,  intriguing  spirit  had  been 
bowed  to  the  dust  in  shame  and  humiliation.  And  in 
her  wretchedness,  misery,  and  deep  regret  for  all  the 
sins  of  her  past  life,  she  had  sought,  and  felt  as  if  she 
had  found,  forgiveness  through  a  Saviour's  love,  and  ob- 
tained that  glorious  hope  for  the  future,  that  can  alone 
make  the  thought  of  a  blasted  and  disappointed  life 
endurable. 

And  not  only  had  the  deformities  of  the  soul  been 
healed,  but  also  those  of  the  countenance ;  from  whicli 
the  scars  had  mostly  been  erased  by  the  healing  hand 
of  Time.  So,  with  little  of  the  old  pride  and  arrogance 
left,  she  retained  much  of  the  old  beauty,  that  ever 
and  always  commands  attention  and  admiration. 


THE  FIRST  LOVE  AT  LAST.  405 

Sooa  after  their  return  to  Richmond,  Catharine  and 
Theodore  had  a  call  from  Col.  James  Hooker,  one  of 
their  friends  and  near  neighbors  in  early  life :  and 
Nell,  who  happened  to  be  present,  proved  her  power  by 
renewing  the  passion  with  which  she  had  inspired  him 
while  at  school  at  the  jLVTorth  in  youth's  bright  and 
glorious  morning. 

She  had  fascinated,  bewitched,  and  flirted  with  him 
then,  though  considering  him  her  inferior ;  but  now, 
when  she  herself  felt  as  if  he  was  her  superior,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  inspiring  her  with  a  nobler  and  truer  affec- 
tion. 

Catharine  at  first  felt  some  anxiety  regarding  his 
attentions,  because  he  had  helped  to  save  her  from  the 
fire  in  Columbia,  and  knew  her  past  history.  Knowing 
it,  and  a  good  many  of  her  faults  besides,  she  thought  he 
would  be  unwilling  to  marry  her.  But  she  was  mis- 
taken. He  had  loved  her  always,  and  was  for  that  rea- 
son willing  to  overlook  the  past,  and  make  her  his  wife." 
There  were  Southern  men  too,  old  admirers  of  hers, 
who  would  have  been  glad  to  retrieve  their  fallen  for- 
tunes by  marrying  her ;  but,  in  spite  of  her  former 
treasonable  proclivities,  she  now  preferred  an  energetic, 
intelligent,  Northern  business -man  to  a  dilapidated 
Southern  gentleman.  All  who  knew  the  man  consid- 
ered her  fortunate  indeed,  and  felt  as  if  he  were  far  too 
good  and  worthy  for  the  lady  of  his  choice. 

Theodore  and  Grace  Tremont,  who  had  also  treasured 
a  fond  regard  for  each  other  since  their  early  school- 
days, and  who  had  met  several  times  during  the  war, 
were  to  be  married  at  Christmas.  Mrs.  Hunter,  with 
her  old  hospitable  spirit,  had  insisted  on  making  the 
wedding :    so  now  she  contrived  at  the  same   time   to 


406      THE  REBEL  GEXERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

marry  off  two  nieces  instead  of  one  ;  thougli  the  melan- 
choly state  of  the  country  made  a  great  display  unadvis- 
able. 

So,  when  the  time  arrived,  the  double  wedding  came 
off  privately;  only  the  particular  friends  and  relatives 
of  the  families  being  present.  Uncle  Xick,  who  was 
home  once  more,  and  Aunt  Dinah,  were  particularly 
resplendent  upon  the  great  occasion ;  and  Nick  espe- 
cially, who  had  loved  little  Grace  always,  and  who,  after 
saving  Theodore's  life,  had  become  strongly  attached  to 
him,  shed  real  tears  of  joy  as  he  pronounced  his  blessing 
upon  the  union.  Lloyd,  too,  was  there,  and  met  Cath- 
arine for  the  first  time  since  their  sad  and  hopeless  part- 
ing. Both  had  dreaded  yet  perhaps  desired  this 
meeting;  yet,  knowing  nothing  of  each  other's  present 
feelings,  had  felt  some  anxiety  regarding  the  manner  of 
their  future  intercourse. 

There  was  some  embarrassment  at  first ;  but,  before 
the  evening  was  over,  they  found  themselves  talking 
quietly  together  regarding  the  events  of  the  war,  and 
finally  of  some  of  their  plans  for  the  future. 

He  had,  it  seemed,  since  peace  was  declared,  been 
trying  to  gather  the  people  upon  the  old  plantation  at 
Hunter  Hills,  and  his  own  near  Richmond,  to  instruct 
them  in  their  duties  to  God,  each  other,  and  their  late 
masters ;  to  establish  schools  among  them,  and  teach 
them  how  to  live  so  as  to  be  self-dependent  in  tliis  life, 
and  prepared  for  that  which  was  to  come.  His  whole 
heart  seemed  to  be  in  the  work:  which  was  one  in 
which  he  had  her  entire  sympathy,  and  one  too,  which, 
by  HaiTy's  help,  she  was  akeady  planning  to  put  in 
operation  upon  Atherton  Plantation. 

The  meeting  between  Xell  and  Lloyd  was  very  em- 


THE  FIRST   LOVE  AT   LAST.  407 

barrassing,  as  well  it  might  be :  but  she  was  used  to  dis- 
agreeable contretemps  ;  and  he  was  so  glad,  through  all 
his  troubles,  that  she  had  not  chosen  to  marry  him,  that 
both  soon  recovered  their  equanimity. 

Upon  the  whole,  the  wedding  was  a  very  pleasant 
affair,  and,  as  is  often  the  case,  the  means  of  bringing 
about  another  a  few  months  later  between  Harry  Hale  and 
Helen  Tremont.  As  she  and  Grace  had  inherited  con- 
siderable wealth,  some  of  her  Southern  friends  tried  to 
interfere  to  prevent,  as  they  said,  her  sacrificing  herself 
to  a  poor  limping  Yankee  lover.  But  neither  their  per- 
suasions, Harry's  poverty,  nor  the  surgeon's  fiat  of  "lame 
for  life  "  could  in  the  least  destroy  the  affection  she  had 
conceived  for  him,  or  her  faith  in  his  inherent  nobleness. 
So  in  the  early  springtime  she  married  him ;  and  poor 
Harry  did  not  seem  at  all  displeased  about  it.  And 
afterwards,  when  Theodore  and  Grace,  and  IVlrs.  Hale 
and  Jessie,  had  gone  back  to  the  North,  she  and  Harry 
settled  down  upon  the  old  Tremont  plantation. 

Catharine  had  calculated  so  much  upon  having  Harry 
to  manage  her  estate,  that  she  was  a  good  deal  disap- 
pointed by  this  new  arrangement,  even  though  she 
rejoiced  in  their  happiness.  Yet  she  found,  after  her 
return  to  Atherton  j)lantation,  that  she  had  some  capa- 
city for  farming,  as  well  as  several  other  avocations. 

The  work  was  performed  as  well  indeed  as  it  could 
be  done  by  the  wretched  remainder  of  the  people,  who 
once  belonged  to  the  estate,  vrith  all  she  was  able  to 
gatlier  from  the  surrounding  country.  They  had,  it  is 
true,  run  wild  v.-ith  their  vague,  unreal  ideas  of  freedom; 
and  it  took  some  time  to  initiate  them  into  tlie  true  idea 
of  earning  their  living  by  paid  labor.  But  she  under- 
stood the  case  much  better  than  they  ;  was  very  patient 


408      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL'S  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

with  their  shortcomings^  and  very  soon  thej^  began  to 
see  the  wisdom  of  the  plan,  that  so  easily  procured  sub- 
sistence for  their  starving  families.  Nor  was  it  long 
before  they  almost  worshipped  her  vrho  had  led  them 
so  wisely,  knowing  it  was  for  their  own  best  good. 

She  established  a  school  and  sabbath  school,  in  which 
grateful  little  Effie,  whom  she  had  taught  to  read,  and  a 
young  lady  of  the  neighborhood  who  had  been  left 
homeless  and  destitute  by  the  war,  proved  valuable 
assistants.  She  also  cultivated  the  acquaintance  of  her 
neighbors,  and  especially  of  the  j)oor  whites,  who  were 
ver}'  destitute,  whom  she  assisted  plij^sically,  mentally, 
and  morally,  to  the  extent  of  her  power.  So  you  see, 
the  old  idea  of  trying  to  do  good  had  not  left  our  hero- 
ine yet,  nor  will  it  probably  to  the  end  of  her  useful 
life. 

So  busy  had  she  been,  and  so  much  had  she  found  to 
do,  that  Catharine  hardly  realized  that  summer  was 
over,  until  one  fine  September  morning,  when  she  re- 
ceived an  unexpected  call  from  Lloyd  Hunter.  When 
the  slightly-embarrassed  greetings  were  over,  he  said  he 
had  called  to  announce  the  fact  that  his  mother,  with 
her  family,  had  returned  from  the  Springs^  where  they 
had  spent  most  of  the  summer,  and  Walter  had  grown 
better  every  day;  and  that  they  might  be  expected  upon 
the  morrow  at  Atherton  Plantation. 

"  Well,  I  shall  be  delighted  to  see  them  all,"  said 
Catharine  with  a  glad  look ;  ^"  and  will  not  jou  also 
remain  with  us,  and  add  to  the  pleasure  of  the  visit  ?  " 

"  I  should  be  most  hapj)}^  to  do  so,  but  cannot  spare 
the  time.  You  know,  that,  like  yourself,  I  am  trying  my 
hand  at  farming ;  and  that,  with  a  little  unavoidable 
surgery,  gives  me  plenty  of  occupation." 


THE  FERST  LOVE  AT  LAST.  409 

They  talked  of  his  pLans  a  while,  and  then  turned 
to  other  subjects,  —  the  weather,  the  crops,  the  political 
aspects  of  the  country,  her  school,  her  improvements, 
and  at  last  her  baby,  who,  just  beginning  to  walk,  at  that 
moment,  followed  by  Effie,  came  toddling  into  the  room. 
He  looked  shyly  at  Lloyd  at  first,  and  ran  to  his 
mother ;  but,  before  a  half-hour  was  over,  he  had  sidled 
up  to  him,  climbed  upon  his  knee,  and  seemed  very 
much  inclined  to  make  his  acquaintance  by  laughing, 
crowing,  and  pulling  his  hair  and  whiskers. 

^•He  is  getting  too  rude.  Pray  put  him  down,  Mr. 
Hunter :  I  never  saw  him  so  familiar  with  a  stranger," 
said  his  mother,  coloring  with  vexation  at  the  child's 
conduct.     ^'Here,  Effie,  take  him  out  for  a  walk." 

"Pie  seems  to  have  uncommon  sense  and  penetra- 
tion," said  Lloyd,  smiling,  as  he  surrendered  the  child 
to  his  little  nurse.  "  He  has  discovered  that  I  am  not  a 
stranger,  but  a  friend,  —  or  at  least  ought  to  be.  He 
seems  willing  to  accept  me  as  one ;  will  not  you  ?  " 

"Certainly.  I  hope  we  shall  never  be  any  thing 
else." 

"But  I  hope  for  something  else,  dear  Catharine, — a 
tie  that  is  nearer  and  dearer.  Is  it  in  vain  for  me  to 
think  of  it  ?  "  said  he  earnestly. 

"You  cannot  really  wi§h  it,  after  all  I  have  gone 
through,"  said  Catharine  in  surprise. 

"  But  I  do  wish  for  it,  hope  for  it,  pray  for  it.  Oh !  you 
do  not  know  how  I  long  for  your  presence,  your  help, 
your  sympathy.  I  live  on,  it  is  true,  and  do  the  best  I 
can.  But  life  is  cheerless,  joyless,  and  incomplete  with- 
out that  sweet  communion  of  soul  you  alone  can  brino* 
to  me, — you,  who  of  all  the  women  in  the  world  I  still 
love." 

35 


410      THE  EEBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

Catharine  was  deeply  affected  by  this  avowal,  whicli 
touched  a  responsive  chord  in  her  soul;  yet  after  a  few 
moments'  silence,  during  which  she  was  trying  to  com- 
mand her  feelings,  she  said  in  a  tremulous  tone,  — 

"  Lloyd,  I  owe  it  to  your  truth  and  love  and  con- 
stancy to  own  that  you  are  still  dear  to  me.  Yet  I 
have  little  faith,  as  a  general  thing,  in  the  happiness  of 
second  marriages,  and  especially  those  of  widows  with 
children,  and  young  men,  who,  like  you,  have  wealth,  tal- 
ents, and  every  advantage  that  could  win  for  them  a 
choice  of  the  youngest  and  fairest.  The  world,  too, 
always  sneers  at  such  marriages,  and  talks  of  the  artful, 
scheming  widow,  who  has  entrapped  that  fine  young 
man  by  her  intrigues." 

"  But,  Catharine,  though  a  widow,  you  are  not  a 
scheming  one;  and  certainly  you  have  never  sought  to 
entrap,  but  rather  repelled  me." 

"  They  would  believe  it  none  the  less." 

"  I  care  not  what  they  believe,  if  you  will  only  become 
my  wife,  dear  Catharine,  —  the  sharer  of  my  destiny." 

"It  is  not  wholly  the  world's  opinion  that  I  care  for," 
said  Catharine  with  a  troubled  look.  "  I  also  care  for 
your  happiness,  which  I  do  not  believe  would  be  in- 
creased by  such  a  union.  The  memory  of  our  early 
love  may  be  very  sweet  to  us  both :  yet  I  have  known 
other  loves  since  then ;  so  we  are  no  longer  equals.  I 
have  lived  much  faster  than  you :  I-  am  'older  tlian  you 
in  thought  and  feeling,  physically  and  mentally.  You  are 
still  young,  having  had  none  of  my  sad  experiences ; 
and,  if  you  wish  to  marr}',  you  can  have  a  choice  of 
youth,  beauty,  and  fortune." 

"I  do  not  wish  it  if  I  could.  I  am  four  years  your 
senior  j  so  I  am  older  than  you  in  years,  if  not  in  expe- 


THE  FIRST  LOVE  AT  LAST.  411 

rience.  But,  whether  young  or  old,  it  is  you  alone  I 
love,  and  no  one  else  in  this  world  can,  or  ever  will, 
fill  your  place  to  me.  I  could  wish  indeed  that  you  had 
never  been  another  man's  wife ;  but,  knowing  my  own 
past  delinquencies,  I  can  never  blame  you  for  that." 

"Nor  can  I  regret  it,"  said  Catharine  thoughtfully. 
"When  I  think  of  that  marriage  now,  it  is  with  the 
feeling  that  it  was  ordained  of  God  to  bring  about  cer- 
tain events ;  and  that  I  was  but  a  feeble  instrument  in 
his  hands  to  accomplish  his  plans  of  mercy  and  love." 

"Why,  then,  may  you  not  believe  that  another  with 
me  may  be  ordained  by  him  to  work  out  other  plans 
quite  as  important  to  the  welfare  of  a  great  people  ?  " 

"  If  I  thought  so,  I  might  not  hesitate.  But  thus  far 
since  my  husband's  death  my  path  of  duty  has  seemed 
plain  to  me.  My  child,  and  these  poor  people  around 
me,  literally  starving,  not  only  for  the  bread  of  earth, 
but  that  of  heaven,  have  demanded  all  my  time  and 
care." 

"  The  same  demands  are  made  upon  me.  But,  Catha- 
rine," he  continued  eagerly,  "  could  I  not  be  a  help, 
and  not  a  hinderance,  in  your  path  of  duty  ?  Could  I 
not  be  a  father  to  your  beautiful  boy,  and  help  you  to 
bring  him  up  '  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the 
Lord'?  Could  I  not  assist  you  in  devising  plans  for 
the  benefit  of  the  people,  not  only  upon  your  plantation, 
and  mine  ten  miles  away,  but  also  through  the  whole 
Southern  country?  United,  could  we  not  do  much, 
—  very  much  more  than  either  of  us  could  do  alone ; 
come  nearer  to  the  hearts  and  homes  of  our  suffering 
people ;  more  abundantly  and  efficiently  influence  their 
lives  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  began  doubtingly. 


412      THE  REBEL  GEXEEAL'S  LOYAL  BRLDE. 

"But  I  know,  dear  Cn.tharine,  if  you  do  not,  that  it 
would  be  so.  I  know,  too,  that  you  must  often  feel  the 
need  of  a  strong  arm  and  a  loving  heart  on  which  to 
lean.  You  expected  to  have  found  it  in  Harry  ;  but  you 
were  disappointed  in  that  hope.  Then,  wh}'  not  accept 
one  upon  which  you  would  have  a  claim  for  life." 

"  I  will  own  that  I  have  often  felt  this  need  since  I 
came  here,  and  especially  at  first;  yet  there  are  a 
great  many  considerations  that  forbid  the  thought  of  a 
second  marrias^e  for  me." 

"  Well,  I  want  you  to  think  of  it,"  said  he  earnestly  : 
"I  will  not  take  jouv  decision  now.  I  know  you  can 
sympathize  in  all  my  views  for  the  future.  I  know  that 
your  heart  is  full  of  that  enthusiasm  of  humanity  that 
would  lead  you  to  a  life  of  toil  and  self-sacrifice  for  the 
benefit  of  the  human  race.  You  have  the  true  mis- 
sionary spirit,  as  jou  have  abundantly  proved  during  the 
war.  And  I  know  that  you  are  more  capable  of  inspir- 
ing other  souls  with  the  same  feelings  —  even  as  you 
once  did  mine  —  than  any  other  woman  of  my  acquaint- 
ande." 

"  I  think  you  overrate  my  powers." 

"  No :  I  do  not.  And  if  you  were  to  go  through  the 
whole  South,  as  I  have  done  during  and  since  the  war, 
you  would  feel,  as  I  do,  the  imperative  need  of  using 
them  ;  for  the  mental  and  moral  darkness,  destitution,  and 
ignorance  are  everywhere.  The  late  masters,  most  of 
them  ruined,  bereaved,  and  terribly  imbittered  against 
the  redeemed  race,  who  are  ignorant,  helpless,  and  starv- 
ing, oppress  and  tyrannize  over  them  to  the  extent  of 
their  power.  They  are  imbittered,  too,  against  all 
Northern  men  and  women,  and  will  scarcely  listen  to 
their  suggestions  J  but  Southern  men  of  just,  generous, 


THE  FIEST  LOVE  AT  LAST.  413 

and  pliilantliropic  spirit,  and  able  to  support  themselves, 
might  just  now  do  them  an  immense  amount  of  good." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  that,  or  tliat  you  are  just  the 
man  for  such  a  place  ;  for  you  have  a  strong,  sympa- 
thetic, and  personal  influence  that  would  convince  where 
others  would  fail." 

"  Well,  if  I  have,  I  hope  you  will  feel  it,"  said  he,  smil- 
ing. "  I  think  myself  that  I  can  do  some  good  by  per- 
sonal effort :  at  any  rate,  I  shall  try.  But,  if  I  had 
a  faithful  female  coadjutor, —  one  whose  heart  was  in 
the  work,  and  who  could  mingle  freely  with  the  women 
of  the  South,  wlio  now  fearfully  preponderate,  —  I  could 
do  a  hundred  times  more,  —  work  that  would  benefit  the 
present,  and  the  results  of  which  might  endure  to  future 
generations.  And  will  not  you,  dear  Catharine,  who 
have  the  requisite  talents,  the  thoroughly-practical  edu- 
cation, the  energetic  will,  and  the  generous  enthusiasm 
needed  in  such  a  position,  join  me  in  this  noble  work, 
before  which  all  other  selfish  and  thoroughly  personal 
considerations  should  at  the  present  time  sink  into  in- 
significance ? 

"  Oh !  I  do  think  it  a  work  that  is  needed,  —  in  fact,  to 
fully  restore  peace  and  prosperity  to  the  country,  imper- 
atively demanded.  But  I  know  you  over-estimate  my 
capabilities ;  and,  above  all,  forget  that  I  am  a  Northern 
woman,  a  hated  Yankee." 

"You  have  identified  yourself  so  fully  with  the  South 
during  the  war,  that  you  are  now  regarded  as  a  Southern 
woman  by  all.  Your  praises  are  on  many  grateful  South- 
ern lips,  your  memory  a  green  oasis  in  the  desert  soil 
of  many  Southern  hearts.  What  you  have  done  and  suf- 
fered for  friends  and  foes  during  the  past  five  years  will 
never,  never  be  forgotten." 

35* 


414      THE  REBEL  GENERAL's  LOYAL  BRIDE. 

"Well,  I  believe  my  own  conscience  bears  me  witness 
tbat  I  have  done  what  I  could." 

"  And  do  not  heart  and  conscience  both  respond  to 
this  '  call  from  Macedonia,  —  "  Come  over  and  help 
us '"  ?  " 

"  Yes :  I  cannot  deny  it,  or  that  it  is  just  what  I  have 
been  di-eaming  about  and  longing  to  do  for  months.  And, 
had  not  my  home  duties  seemed  to  demand  all  my  care, 
I  might  have  done  something  more  than  dream,"  said 
Catharine  frankly. 

"  Those  home  duties  can  be  easily  arranged,  now  that 
we  have  made  so  fair  a  beginning.  And  there  are  plenty 
of  active  business  men  and  women,  ruined  by  the  war, 
who  would  be  glad  to  take  care  of  our  estates,  and  man- 
age them  as  we  directed.  Your  child  we  should  prefer 
to  take  with  us  wherever  w^e  went.  The  necessity  for 
this  work,  now  so  urgently  demanded,  will,  I  hope,  soon 
cease ;  and  then  we  can  return  to  our  home,  with  the 
consciousness  that  we  have  done  what  we  could,  in  the 
vineyard  of  the  Master,  and  not  misimproved  whatever 
talents  God  has  given  us.  I  believe  no  thoughtful  man 
could  see  hundreds  and  thousands  of  men  falling  like 
autumn  leaves  around  him,  as  I  have  done  during  the 
war,  many  of  them  going  to  their  death  with  oaths  and 
curses  or  agonizing  prayers  for  mercy  upon  their  lips, 
without  feeling  as  if  it  were  the  noblest  work  in  the  uni- 
verse to  fit  men  to  live  as  they  ought  while  they  are  here 
upon  the  earth,  and  to  induce  them  to  prepare  for  the 
life  to  come.  But  this  work,  to  which  I  have  previously 
referred,  seems  to  be  what  is  demanded  of  us  to-day.  I 
feel  as  if  God  demanded  it  of  those  whom  he  has  fitted 
for  it;  of  whom  you,  Catharine,  are  one.  And  I  want 
you  to  think  of  it  prayerfully  before  coming  to  a  final 
decision." 


THE  FIRST   LOVE  AT  LAST.  415 

When  Mrs.  Hunter  arrived,  and  heard  of  Lloyd's  pro- 
posal^ she  gave  it  her  unqualified  approval,  and  urged 
Catharine  to  accept  of  it. 

They  had  been  wronged  by  everybody,  she  said,  in 
their  past  separation ;  and  this  would  make  it  all  right 
again.  It  was  just  what  she  had  been  planning  in  her 
own  mind  for  some  time. 

A  woman  had  just  as  much  right  to  make  a  sec- 
ond marriage  as  a  man,  she  said ;  though  it  was  not 
always  quite  as  advisable.  Yet  the  wives  of  Washing- 
ton, Franklin,  Jackson,  and  Bonaparte  had  done  it, 
with  multitudes  of  other  noble  women,  whom  the  world 
delighted  to  honor.  It  would  surely  be  no  discredit  to 
the  noble  name  she  bore  to  exchange  it  for  another 
quite  as  distinguished ;  and  she  was  sure  it  would  be 
the  best  thing  that  could  happen  to  all  concerned. 

Once  Mrs.  Hunter  would  hardly  have  given  Catha- 
rine such  counsel  as  this ;  but  now  she  loved  her  as  a 
sister,  and  had  such  a  high  regard  for  her  worth  and 
talents,  that  she  felt  as  if  Lloyd  could  not  find  a  nobler 
woman  in  the  universe  to  share  his  destiny. 

Catharine  finally  consulted  her  friends  at  the  North ; 
and,  as  they  were  all  of  Mrs.  Hunter's  opinion,  she  con- 
cluded to  follow  the  bent  of  her  own  inclinations,  and 
become  Lloyd  Hunter's  bride. 

So  they  were  quietly  married  upon  the  ensuing  Christ- 
mas, and,  after  a  brief  visit  to  her  Northern  home,  re- 
turned to  the  South,  and  began  their  noble  work. 
From  their  past  connection  with  army  life,  both  had 
many  acquaintances  among  all  classes  of  the  Southern 
people,  many  of  whom  were  deeply  indebted  to  them 
for  past  favors,  and  very  grateful.  So  they  were  enabled 
to  go  with  safety  into  the  darkest  and  most  benighte4 


416      THE  REBEL  GEiTEEAL  S  LOYAL  BEIDE. 

regions,  where  light  from  the  Freedman's  Bureau  could 
not  penetrate,  and  where  Northern  men  and  women 
would  at  that  time  have  been  repulsed  with  indignation 
and  scorn. 

Their  own  w^ealth,  fine  talents,  and  high  Southern 
connections  enabled  them  to  go  among  the  highest  as 
well  as  the  lowest;  to  plead  with  and  persuade  the 
people,  in  public  and  in  private,  in  churches,  school- 
houses,  or  log-cabins,  that  it  was  not  only  for  their  best 
earthly  interest,  but  also  their  solemn  duty,  to  extend 
the  hand  of  friendship  and  encouragement  to  the  igno- 
rant, oppressed,  and  long  down-trodden  slaves.  They 
also  endeavored,  so  far  as  it  was  in  their  power,  to  in- 
spire both  the  late  masters  and  the  new-born  freemen 
with  a  spirit  of  forbearance  and  conciliation,  of  mutual 
forgiveness  and  forgetfuluess  of  past  injuries,  which  was 
the  only  thing  that  could  conduce  to  the  welfare  and 
happiness  of  both,  and  save  them  and  their  country  from 
ruin. 

Both  could  plead  earnestly,  eloquently,  and  convin- 
cingly ;  and  the  good  they  have  been  enabled  to  do  in 
the  years  that  have  passed  since  the  war  is  incalcu- 
lable. They  have  succeeded  in  opening  the  eyes  of 
hundreds  of  the  former  masters  and  mistresses  to  the 
injustice,  oppression,  inhumanity,  and  un worthiness  of 
tbeir  conduct  towards  their  former  slaves,  and  led  them 
to  forbearance  and  amendment.  They  have  inspired  in 
many  other  hearts  that  spirit  of  the  Master  that  will  lead 
them  to  try  to  imitate  his  noble  example.  They  have 
been  the  means  of  establishing  schools,  and  houses  of 
worship,  in  many  dark  and  desolate  places  ;  from  which 
streams  of  knowledge  and  light  from  on  high  will 
eventually  flow  to  civilize,  enlighten,  and  redeem  all  the 


THE  FIKST  LOVE  AT  LAST.  417 

surrounding  country.  They  have  mingled  among  the 
people,  and  taught  those  who  were  ignorant  and  shift- 
less how  to  make  the  best  use  of  their  slender  means, 
which  they  increased  upon  many  fitting  occasions. 

Thousands  of  the  former  masters  and  mistresses  who 
have  lived  in  affluence,  and  boasted  of  their  aristocracy, 
were  now  poor,  spiritless,  and  dejected,  and  needed 
some  such  reviving  influence  to  lead  them  to  a  better 
and  more  useful  life  and  a  higher  destiny.  Catharine's 
eminently  practical  education  fitted  her  admirably  to  be 
a  domestic  adviser  to  such  as  these,  as  she  had  been 
brought  up  in  a  home  of  thrift  and  economy,  where 
small  means  had  been  made  to  work  out  the  great  ends 
of  education,  improvement,  and  respectability. 

Wherever  they  went,  th  oy  endeavored,  so  far  as  was 
in  their  power,  to  abate  old  and  sinful  prejudices,  to 
initiate  needed  reforms,  to  persuade  the  discouraged  to 
cast  oif  their  indolence,  and  begin  a  thorough  reforma- 
tion of  heart,  life,  and  character ;  and,  above  all,  to 
lead  souls  out  of  darkness,  ignorance,  and  discourage- 
ment, up  to  light  and  hope  here,  and  a  better  prospect  of 
glory  in  that  beyond  the  grave.  They  are  now  resting 
at  home  ;  and  happy  in  their  mutual  affection,  and  rich 
in  the  gratitude  of  multitudes,  they  are  on  earth  laying 
up  treasure  in  heaven. 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wilmer 
71 


